Salvation
by Makota2112
Summary: It is only by throwing yourself into the unknown that you learn to appreciate the meaning of pleasure..and pain. Please read the warning this is not for young viewers. YAOI HET BDSM Religious Themes. Rated MA NO underage viewers.
1. Chapter 1 The Challenge

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ, I am not making any money off of this. 

**Big Fat Fucking Warning: **NC-17 content.This fic will contain, but is not limited to, the following: Yaoi (obviously), Het, (only a small amount), Orgy, Bondage, Domination, Submission, Sadism, Masochism, Non-Con (kinda sorta, more of a reluctance really), Blood letting, Self-mutilation, and a poor plot line worthy of a porno movie, i.e. PWP.

_But most importantly_, as this piece has religious themes, please be aware of your own personal boundaries. If you are easily offended, then this fic is not for you. While I have tried to be fair to each pathway as possible, this **is** a piece of fanfiction, meant for entertainment purposes only.

That said, chapter one is 'safe', however I have listed the chapter titles at the end to give you an idea of what's to come. If you are uncomfortable with the possible connotations of the titles, (esp ch 3 & 4), then do not read any further postings of this story.

Consider yourself warned.

Also please note that if a character's role seems odd it is because I needed someone to fill in said role without creating an original character. Rest assured I only do this with what I consider to be minor characters.

SALVATION

By Makota

Chapter One: The Challenge

"All right, class, quiet down," he paused, allowing the youths to silence themselves. "I know you are all anxious for spring break, but while you're enjoying your vacation keep in mind that the end of term is not far away, and many of you need to pull up your grades," his light blue eyes settled on a dark-haired teen slumped in a chair in the back of the class. With a small disdainful shake of his head he continued, "As such, I am assigning a project—"

There was a collective groan around the room. A small grin tugged on the professor's lips, "Now, now, it's not as bad as it seems. As many of you know two religious holidays are celebrated during your break. Who can tell me what they are?"

Hands shot up all over the room. The academic walked around his desk and leaned back against it, sitting on the edge. A few black strands escaped the tight pony tail tied at the back of his head as he motioned towards a gawky girl in the front row, "Daisy," he said choosing her.

"Easter," she replied in small voice.

"Correct." He nodded his approval, the girl blushed behind her glasses. He turned his attention back on the class "And the other?"

A lot of the hands lowered, but still a quite few remained. The professor's eyes settled again on the youth in the back of the room. The boy had sunk further in his chair, there was a book propped open—upside-down—in front of him, apparently to hide the fact he was dozing. However, the small bit of drool issuing from his mouth and the soft snoring sounds, only the professor could hear, were hard to ignore.

"Goten," the academic called sharply.

The demi-Saiyan startled to awareness, his dark eyes darted around the room to find everyone staring in his direction, the professor looking at him in expectation.

"Um, yes Professor 17?" he asked sitting up.

"Can you answer the question?"

Goten grinned sheepishly, "Could you repeat the question, please?"

The android's eyes narrowed, "What religious holiday will be celebrated during Spring Break?"

A wave of relief washed over the teen, "Easter," he stated with confidence.

There were more than a few snickers in the room. The demi-Saiyan frowned, what was so funny? He had been right.

"Goten," the professor said calmly, "while I understand that my students are young and apt to staying up all night participating in such worth-while activities as partying, I do not appreciate them recovering in my class."

"But I wasn't—

"You were sleeping," he said matter of factly. "If you had been awake you would have known that Daisy had all ready provided Easter as one of the answers." Goten glanced at the girl in question, wondering what kind of flower-children parents had given her such a stupid name. "Please see me after class," the android continued.

Goten's eyes widened. He turned to look at his teacher, but 17's attention had moved away from him to scanning the classroom once again. The teen scowled, drooping back in his chair, trying to ignore the sniggers and giggles directed at him.

"Edward," the professor called.

"Ostara," the boy answered primly, smirking nastily in Goten's direction. The demi-Saiyan glared at him, swearing to himself that he'd beat the pompous little twat to a pulp after class.

"Excellent," 17 answered. "Easter; the Christian holiday celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and Ostara; the spring fertility rite honored by neo-Pagans. In keeping with the season, I want a 700 word essay on one of these spiritual days. But there is a slight catch," he paused and let his eyes sweep the room, "if you happen to personally celebrate one of these holidays, I want you to write about the other."

There were a few moans around the class and more than a couple shifted in their seats nervously. The android smiled at the reaction and started to stroll casually around the room, "The purpose of this course is to learn about an array of western religions, however foreign they may seem to you. You will not go far in life if you never venture, or think outside, your 'comfort-culture' box." He stalled in front of Goten, "It is my hope that the information you gain from this class will help make you a more rounded, _knowledgeable_, individual. " He kept moving, "For those of you who do not celebrate either Ostara or Easter, you may pick the one that interests you more. The guidelines for the paper are on my desk, make sure you pick one up as you leave."

The professor moved to the front of the room, "As this class has been more discussion than lecture, I am certain that you all have the ability to do well. However, please keep in mind that this project is research based. While I value your opinions, I do not want them dominating the paper. That said, have a good break. Class dismissed."

The students shuffled out of the room, each taking a sheet from the pile on the desk at the front of the class. A few lingered to wish the professor a happy break, but soon all were gone, leaving Goten and the android alone.

"Have a seat," 17 said, motioning towards the chair nearest to his desk. Reluctantly the demi-Saiyan complied, having the good grace to hang his head a bit as he did so. The older man closed the door to his classroom then settled himself in his chair. He opened a drawer and retrieved a maroon records book, flipping through it a moment before setting it down.

"Goten," he said finally, "to be blunt, your performance in this course can only be described as abysmal. You're missing several assignments, and the ones you have turned in were mediocre at best." He paused, as if to let the information sink in, "You do not participate in classroom discussion and to top it off you have missed several days. Do you have an explanation for any of this?"

Goten shrunk in his chair, not meeting his professor's gaze. He knew he wasn't doing well, but he didn't think it was that bad. Having it said out loud by his professor, who he happened to know outside of the classroom as Krillen's brother-in-law, was humbling to say the least. Slowly he shook his head.

17 sighed in frustration, he had thought Goten would do well in his course. He knew the kid wasn't stupid, outside of class he had always struck the android as a eager individual. He had hoped that eagerness would be applied towards his class work. Apparently he had been wrong.

"Are you doing this poorly in any of your other courses?"

Goten thought about it for a moment, "No," he said, "I'm not."

"Really? Why do you think that is?"

The demi-Saiyan shifted in his seat, "I don't know, well," he huffed and sat up a little straighter, "it's just that I don't like religion. I know it's important, and all, but personally I think it's boring. It's not for me."

"I take it, you took this course to meet a tier requirement?"

Goten nodded. "I had to take a humanities course, and well, I know you, so I thought—

"You thought I would be easy on you?" 17 cut in.

"Yeah," when the android raised a brow, he hastily continued, "I mean no. I thought it would be a cool course if you were teaching it, but it's just utterly boring to me," he was digging himself deeper and deeper and he knew it, "not that you're a bad teacher!" His palms were sweating, he hated confrontations, "If you weren't teaching the course I probably wouldn't show up at all…" finally he simply trailed off.

"Goten," the android said, folding his hands neatly, "I'm not going to lie to you, your grade is the lowest in the course. To be honest, I'm quite distressed; I've never had to fail anyone in this class before."

At the despondent look on the youth's face, 17 sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "I understand that you aren't thrilled about the written material. However, if you had participated in some of the discussions I think you would have gained more out of it."

"Why?" Goten asked perturbed, gathering his wits. "It was nothing but people arguing over their beliefs. None of them could be right because none of it is based on facts." His voice grew agitated, " How can I gain anything from listening to a bunch of hypocrites damning each other? They sit there and try to prove they're right, when their argument is based on nothing but an old book—or on the flip side— an ancient culture that died out thousands of years ago, one that they couldn't possibly know anything about." He paused, and crossed his arms, "I'm sorry, that just doesn't cut it for me, I won't have anything to do with it."

A spark of interest lit in the android's icy eyes. "I would have loved to have heard that during class. Why didn't you express your opinion?"

"Why bother?"

"Because it would have proven to be an interesting debate. And, perhaps, the people who you say are 'hypocrites' would learn a different way of looking at things, just as I hope you would as well."

Goten shook his head, "If you say so."

"Look, Goten, I don't normally do this, but if I offered you a way to bring up your grade to passing, would you take it?."

The teen nodded frantically. "Yes, anything."

"It won't be easy. Even if you turned in the essay I assigned today, and did perfectly, you would still be failing. And believe me when I tell you, an 'F' on your transcript will haunt you for the rest of your academic life." Goten gulped, he really didn't understand the consequences until just now. A feeling of dread settled heavily on him when he thought of his mother's reaction.

"However," the dark-haired android continued, "I will allow you to write on both Easter and Ostara, but I don't want you to simply go to the library and check out some literature. I want you to physically observe an Easter Mass, and a Spring Rite. In addition I want you to talk with the leaders of both rituals. I will require a signature, date, and contact information from both, as proof of your meeting, on your essay."

Goten blanched, the older man chuckled lightly, "Oh, I'm not finished yet." He leaned forward slightly, "I also want you to research, and if possible, observe a third group. You are free to choose from any religion or spiritual movement you want, so long as it is of a western origin. Keep in mind, that the focus of the essay is on a holiday, rite, or festival. If you can possibly observe this ritual, I will give you additional credit, and of course it will require a signature and contact information from a viable member as well."

"Wow," the teen managed "that's a lot."

"Yes it is," 17 confirmed, "but you really slipped up this time." He opened the maroon book and looked it over once more, "As you stand now, you have a 23."

"23!" Goten shouted, "I didn't think I was doing that bad!"

"Doing poorly tends to happen when you skip class, especially when you do so during a mid-term."

"We had a test!"

"Yes, Goten, we did. Why do you think I spent two class periods in review?"

The demi-Saiyan groaned, "I thought you were being redundant."

The android rolled his eyes, "It was in the syllabus."

"I didn't read it."

"Apparently not. I even handed the mid-term back and went over it in class once it was graded."

"I thought that was just an essay." His heart was pounding, how could he have been so stupid? He was royally fucked now, what a way to end his freshman year. Yet, there still seemed to be a sliver of hope.

"If I do all that, how much will it bring me up?"

"If you write the 2100 word essay; that's 700 words on each spiritual pathway, observing an Easter Mass, and a Spring Rite with the two signatures proving your meeting with the leaders," he took a breath, "it will bring you up to roughly a 'D'. If the on the third religion, you observe a spiritual rite and obtain a signature, possibly a C-, but that's the best case scenario. The more effort you put into it, the more you will get out of it. Are you up for it?"

"Yes," the youth muttered, his mind still reeling from the amount of work he was going to have to do.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." He got up and opened the door, "You're free to leave, but keep in mind that I'll be looking for quality. I will not except sub-standard work. I want evidence of thorough research, and observation. Got it?"

"I got it, thank you for giving me a second chance, professor."

17 inclined his head, "I hope you get more out of this than a grade, Goten."

The demi-Saiyan wasn't so sure about that, but he nodded again taking a guideline from the desk and hurried out the door, determined to start on his project right away.

Coming Soon:

(chapter titles are tentative)

Chapter Two: Dances with Stags (no bestiality, I'm not that twisted!)

Chapter Three: Altar Boy

Chapter Four: Devil's Little Soldier

Chapter Five: Teacher's Pet


	2. Chapter 2 The Hunt

Warning: This chapter contains multi-boy on boy, sub/dom, and bondage. I'm sure there is some others floating around here, but those are the major.

If the religion bores you, scroll down a few pages to the action. However, I felt I should give credit where it's due before completely turning it into blatant smut.

Enjoy

Chapter Two: The Hunt

"..and he wants you to actually observe both rites?"

Goten nodded, looking incredulous. "Yeah, and possibly a third."

"Wow, you must have really fucked up," Trunks intoned with a bit of a grin. "When I took his class he was pretty easy-going about essays and homework."

"Lucky you," the younger drawled, curling his lip. "Obviously, he's gotten a lot harder."

"Oh I don't think so. It's 'Western Religions **101**'," he emphasized. "It's an introductory course. I think you were just slacking, like the lazy asshole you are."

"That's beside the point." Goten retorted with a lop-sided grin, earning a laugh from his childhood friend. The dark haired teen's face sobered slightly, "So," he continued, "are you going to help me out?"

Trunks looked dubious. "I don't know.."

"Oh come on!" Goten pleaded, "I have to observe a Spring Rite and you're the only Wiccan I know. Where else am I going to find another neo-Pagan group in such a short amount of time?"

"Okay, first off, drop the 'neo', it's insulting."

"But—

"See, this is exactly what I'm afraid of," Trunks continued cutting his friend off. "You and I can bullshit around and that's great. But, to be honest, you're a little closed-minded." He shook his head slightly at the look of surprise on his companion's face. "Well, let's face it Goten, you are, and I don't want you offending anyone in the group."

"I won't!"

Trunks raised an eyebrow.

"Really I won't," Goten promised. "Look," he said when Trunks did not appear to be appeased, "maybe you're right." He sighed. "Maybe I am a little narrow when it comes to religion," he admitted, "but if I possibly saw it in action, perhaps I'd have a different view point. You have to at least to give me a chance, I promise I'll be on my best behavior."

"You promise?…Noshit, absolutely, **_promise_ **to watch your mouth?"

"Yes, I swear."

The lavender haired young man sighed heavily, "All right, I'll talk to Tara. But I mean it, man, you have to approach this with an open mind. This is a RHP group, that pretty much means we have an 'open arms' policy."

At his friend's confused look, he explained, "There is going to be a wide variety of people there, some of which you are going to think are really weird. In other words, keep your judgments at home, got it?"

"I got it," the younger man nodded, wondering why his friend was being so pushy about the matter.

A few days later he found out why. Trunks had talked to Tara, who was the leader of the Lunar Tides Coven, and she had agreed to let Goten observe the festivities. They were meeting at her house, which was in the country, 20 miles outside of West City. Apparently, she owned a fair share of woodland, which was optimal for the ritual.

When Goten first arrived, he thought he had mistakenly stepped into the Renaissance Fair. People of all makes and sizes milled around in brightly colored robes, period garments, and gothic clothing. Many of whom were carrying medieval weapons such as swords and axes all gripped loosely in hands, or tied to back and waist. As they past, he overheard conversations about role-playing games, such as D&D and the Masquerade, and still others about totem animals and spirit guides.

'_What a bunch of dorks'_, had been his immediate thought. But then he remembered what Trunks had said about keeping his judgments at home. So, pushing his thoughts aside, he had followed his friend through the crowd. They approached a short, red-haired young woman wearing a loose light-green robe.

"Hey Tara," Trunks greeted, "this is Goten, the one I was telling you about."

The woman smiled warmly at him.

"Hi, Goten, as Trunks has probably all ready told you, I'm Tara, the elected high-priestess," she offered her hand which he took, "I understand you have a project you're working on?"

"Yeah," Goten said a little shyly, "I was wondering if I could talk to you a little about the Spring Rite?"

"Sure!" she grinned, "just follow me, it's a little noisy out here."

Trunks waived his good-bye as his younger companion followed the Priestess into her small house. Taking a seat in the living room, Goten looked around as she went to get refreshments. There were several fat 'boobie' dolls situated around the room, as well as a five-pointed, up-right star with a circle around it on the wall. He had seen most of the people outside, including Trunks, wear this symbol around their necks. Goten had a rough idea what a pentagram was; he knew it wasn't Satanic or anything, but some sort of ancient mystical symbol. His eyes darted to the bookshelf, eyes running over the titles and authors; Cunningham, Starhawk, Buckland, Farrar, and Dunwich. He remembered a few of them vaguely from class. He cursed himself; why hadn't he paid more attention?

Tara returned with two glasses of spiced cider. The demi-Saiyan thanked her and, producing a notebook proceeded with his questions. She had clarified what the essence of Wicca was—

Which he knew beforehand thanks to Trunks— explaining it was a Nature based RHP, or Right Hand Path, group that practices white magick. He listened, scribbling notes as she spoke. She went over the credo of "Harm none and do what ye will" and the story of the Mother Goddess and the Horned God, and how the Days of Powers revolved around their union.

Although it still sounded a little cheesy to him, it wasn't near as bad as he originally thought. In fact, he found some aspects pretty interesting, such as the divination tools like the runes.

After she had finished, Goten knew what Ostara was about, but he still didn't know what it entailed.

"Well," she said, "we're bending the rules a bit on this one." She leaned back, curling a leg under her, "You see a lot of us are going to be out of town during Beltane, which is the May fertility ritual. So we're kinda doing a mixture of both. But don't worry," she assured, "we'll be sending the kiddies home for that one."

"O—kay." Goten said confused, he had noticed some children running around earlier, but didn't pay it any mind.

"You'll see" she winked. "Hey, would you like to join in the ritual? It's not hard, just follow Trunks lead, he'll guide you through it. Unless of course you're uncomfortable with it."

The dark haired youth's immediate response was 'hell no, I won't go', but then 17's words floated through his mind, _"The more effort you put into it, the more you will get out of it." _Kami knows he needed the extra points. He had to pull his grade up from a 23, and his writing skills were crap. What the hell, he thought, what did he have to loose?

"Sure, if you wouldn't mind."

"Great!" she chirped, "We'll be starting in about two hours."

Goten thanked her and had her sign and date his notebook complete with her e-mail address and phone number. After thanking her again, he went outside to look for his best friend. He found him sitting in the middle of a bunch of people, decorating hard-boiled eggs for the children's egg hunt. He joined them, thinking it a bit silly at nineteen years old to be sitting here painting eggs, but he was enjoying the conversations with a few of the other members. While some of them were indeed dorks, a lot of them were pretty cool. For instance there was a guy named Terry who looked like he stepped out of a Conan movie, sporting a full beard and carrying a battle-ax. Turns out, he made the thing from scratch and restored motorcycles for a living. And later they had joined him in a drum circle, and that was just plain fun.

Sooner than he expected, it was time for the ritual. At first he regretted agreeing to it. He felt like a complete moron, having incense waved over him to 'purify' him to join an imaginary circle. He nearly rolled his eyes as he put his arms up in the air at different intervals, repeating back what Tara was saying about the Mother Goddess and Her 'awakening' from the cold winter months. But then the atmosphere suddenly changed. An elderly woman collected the children and loaded them into a van to be taken to the sleep over party down the road.

"Now," Tara proclaimed with a smirk on her face, once they were gone, "let us honor the rite of Beltane."

There were exuberant cheers in the circle, and more than a few raucous laughs. Goten was startled at the sudden shift in mood, but he tried to shrug it off.

Night had settled and a bonfire was lit in the middle of the circle. Tara moved towards it along with two other women. Her voice was no longer a flighty pitch, but deeper, more throaty. She raised her hands and started invoking a list of spirits and deities. Goten raised his hands along with the others, but this time he could feel a distinct buzz in the air, much like his own ki, even though he was completely powered down. No, this was coming from around him. He found himself swaying slightly because of it, and looking around, so was everyone else. _What in the hell was happening?_ Yet, all conscious thought seemed to flee him. He couldn't hear what Tara was saying, he could only pick up phrases like 'union of Sky and Earth, 'Mating of life..rebirth' 'Stag and the Maiden." It was this last one that caught his attention, making something in his blood heat up.

"It is said, in times long past, men would hunt the Sacred Stag on May Day. But only one would be able to fell Him. This warrior would be great, gaining the essence of the Stag and mating with the village Maiden, whom would become High Priestess, and the warrior her High Priest."

Tara lowered her arms, outright leering at the many men in the circle, "Since we don't have a Sacred Stag available at the moment, we'll have to improvise." There was more boisterous laughter, and a few hoots and catcalls. She smiled, and motioned towards one of the girls who procured a set of antlers attached to some woven straps. Tara took them and started walking methodically around the circle, pausing before each member for a second to look them over before moving on. Finally she walked past Goten, then unexpectedly back-stepped to face him.

"I have found our quarry!"

Trunks, who was at Goten's right, started laughing, as had everyone else in the circle. The younger demi-Saiyan looked confused. Tara simply smirked, "That is, if our quarry will accept."

He looked at Trunks, the lavender-haired youth nodded his head, "Go on," he whispered, "they'll just chase you around," he leaned in, "but be sure to keep your ki down, they have to be able to catch you."

Goten nodded. "I accept." Yet, he had a feeling he would have agreed even if he Trunks hadn't explained the situation. The odd sensation in the air intensified once he was presented with the antlers causing his pants to tighten pleasantly.

Tara's grin spread wider, "Wonderful."

She strapped the antlers to his head. Once she was done, all of the men stepped forward and dropped their robes. Goten's eyes widened. They were buck-ass naked! But to make matters freakier, they had strange symbols painted up and down their bodies. He recognized these as the 'runes' Tara had spoken to him about earlier.

"Let the Hunt begin!" she exclaimed, and suddenly the men rushed towards him. Without any further prodding, Goten bolted towards the woods; the wild, naked, men hot on his heels.

Reminding himself to slow down, he darted over fallen logs and thorn bushes as the men behind him slowly gained ground. Unfortunately, at this slow pace—for him at least—he kept getting snagged on passing branches. So, with a curse, he flung off his shirt, much to the delight of his pursuers. After a few moments, something in his blood told him he had led them around long enough. He slowed his pace, humming as he felt himself harden further in anticipation. Anticipation for what, he didn't know, nor did he care. In fact, he had completely forgotten to feel ashamed about 'springing wood' in front of a bunch of strangers altogether.

Suddenly Terry, the bearded motorcycle man he had met earlier, leapt and tackled him to the ground. He rolled underneath the bigger man onto the soft earth of the forest floor. The demi-Saiyan fought back against his instinct to struggle, and instead went limp in the rugged man's hands.

"I've caught ya," he panted, "though it wasn't easy. You really gave us a run for our money."

"Thanks, I guess." Goten said, panting himself, although he wasn't run down like the big man above him.

The rest of the men quickly caught up, many baring torches. In the light, the teen looked over to see Trunks grinning madly at him. Apparently, he had stayed back on purpose—fucking ass munch—and was now enjoying his best friends 'helpless' state.

Terry pulled himself up, along with Goten, still holding his wrists.

"Okay boys, let's string him up."

_Wait,_ Goten thought warily,_ what do you mean, 'String him up?'_

A fire was lit and two leanly cut men appeared dragging a large pole behind them. It looked as if it was carved from a tree trunk, Goten couldn't be sure, what he did want to know was, where in the hell did they get it? It was odd looking, with its loop at the top and crudely carved animals seemingly crawling up its length. However his attention was soon taken away as the men sat the pole on end.

Quicker than he would have thought possible, the pole was hammered into the ground. He felt the big man lift him with ease, and was quite impressed with that fact, as he was held against the pole, toes dangling two feet off the ground. A plank was nailed under his feet and soon he was lowered to stand on it, though the burly man did not release him.

It was then that three young men came forward with spools of various colored ribbons in their hands. The demi-Saiyans eyes quickly darted down their naked bodies to stare at their crotches. Well, at least he wasn't the only one sporting a hard on. One of them winked at him as he climbed his companion's shoulders to loop the ribbon at the top of the pole. When he was done there were roughly two dozen thick strands coming from the top.

Forming a circle around the pole, each man took an end of the ribbon. The dark haired teen gasped as Trunks approached him with a knife, but after gracing him with a wicked grin, he handed it to Terry and returned to the circle. Suddenly there was a yell and he heard the beating of drums, and a trill of a flute behind him. He wanted to twist his head and look in the direction the music was coming from, but Terry unexpectedly spoke.

"I think our catch is a little too overdressed, what do you say lads?"

There was that boisterous laughter again. Goten squirmed as he was pushed back with a hand on his bare chest.

"But judging from this," he trailed his finger down the flat muscled stomach, "I'd say he's in top physical condition. How about we find out if the rest of him is so trim, hm?"

Hoots of agreement echoed around the circle.

With a grin, the larger man pulled the waist of Goten's pants and underwear back and worked the knife under it slicing the material from his hip down to his ankle. The same process was repeated on the other side, until what was left of his jeans and boxers slid down to the ground in shreds.

Now free of the offending material, Goten's prick cried out in joy springing forward to greet its many on-lookers.

Sighs of appreciation hit the demi-Saiyans sensitive ears but Terry was outright chuckling.

"I'd say we'd caught quite the stag."

There were groans at the big man's poor sense of humor, and he laughed at this, "Bring the oil."

An old man approached—Goten didn't bother look down at his package—and he was anointed with a strong smelling substance at his temples and his chest. One of the young men who had brought the ribbon earlier, rubbed another pungent oil into his knees and feet, and with a sly smile, swiped the end of his leaking prick. Coyly, he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking off more than oil, much to the demi-Saiyan's delighted shock. Finally another man, roughly thirty, smeared his brow and, stone-faced, his testicles. Goten gasped and wriggled a bit, wondering again why he wasn't offended or ashamed of any of this.

With a nod, Terry backed away to pick up the last free ribbon hanging from the pole.

"I claim this catch as my own, does any one dare to challenge me?"

Not a word.

"Good lads," he said with a jovial smile. Joining the circle he cried, "Let us begin!"

The drums picked up and gradually the men started walking around pole twining the ribbon around their prey tighter and tighter to the wood behind him. After a few rounds, they darted back and forth and under each other until the teen was practically woven into the wooden pole behind him.

Without warning the drums stopped, as did all the men. Knife still gripped in his hand, Terry strode forward and tilting the youth's head up slashed the blade across his neck. Well, made a slashing motion four or five inches above the demi-Saiyans skin, metaphorically, slaying him.

There was a resounding howl as the taller man reached up and with some help un-strapped the antlers from the youth's head. Taking them, he walked away to present them to his priestess, where later she would reward him by slinking off into a secluded area to 'celebrate.' Many of the other men followed suit to find maidens of their own, however five boys remained, including Trunks.

The lavender-haired youth eyed the other males for a moment before stating, "I claim the carcass."

Goten sniffed at being referred to as a 'carcass', but unfortunately the ribbon over his mouth didn't allow him much room to protest.

"You'll have to fight me for it," one said, the good looking blonde young man who had winked at him earlier.

"Me too," piped his redheaded, cute, companion, his somewhat short, but thick erection bobbing as he walked closer to the demi-Saiyan.

"Well, Trunks, since it's you." Said another man, a little older than the rest of them, "I'm not going to challenge you." He then gave him a meaningful look and a small smile that the bound teen couldn't decipher.

"Me either," said the fifth, for which Goten was glad to hear, the guy was a little…fugly. He cringed at the thought of being touched by him, and sighed in relief as he watched him turn to walk back into the forest.

"Thanks Scott..and you too, Quentin," he yelled after them. His eyes narrowed, "Now as for you two…" He leapt at the blonde knocking him to the ground. The redhead snarled and joined the fray, throwing himself on the two of them. Somehow they all rose to their feet, grappling for a moment, before the red-head kicked the blonde's feet from under him, causing them all to tumble to the ground.

Goten watched hungrily as the naked boys wrestled with each other, wondering when Trunks was going to quit pissing around and win. Shuddering in pleasure, he hoped his friend would take his time; this was a pretty damn good show.

Sweaty, ink and paint-stained bodies strained against each other, each trying to gain purchase over the other. Grunts and more than a few moans issued from the men as heavy sacs and cocks brushed each other, or in some cases jabbed in especially sensitive places.

The redhead arched, panting, "I concede."

Trunks and the blonde exchanged a glance and smiled, momentarily stopping to flip the redhead over on his stomach. Finding a loose vial of oil they slicked up their fingers. Goten choked as he watched the blond shove his finger roughly into the other boy's ass. His dark eyes bugged when Trunks did the same thing, only he inserted two.

The redhead moaned softly beneath them, apparently he had been in this situation before, Goten was sure if it had been him he would have been screaming at the top of his lungs. Pushing himself up on his hands and knees the redhead thrust his hips back into the other youths hands, signaling he was ready for more.

In a silent exchange the blonde handed Trunks a cellophane package and tore another open. After working the rubber on, the blonde coated his long prick and then handed the vial to Trunks to do the same. Positioning himself behind the redhead, he placed one hand on his hip and with the other guided himself into the tight winking rosette awaiting him. With a groan he buried himself halfway in, leering at the pink skin stretching wider over his cock. He pulled out and repeated the action forcing his hips down more until finally his balls were flush against the other's ass.

He thrust shallowly three times and then pulled out, the boy underneath him groaning at the loss. Scooting over, the blonde allowed Trunks to take his place, but the demi-Saiyan was not so gentle. Placing both of his hands on the tan boy's ass, he spread the cheeks and balancing on the balls of his feet rammed his cock into the slickend hole. The red head cried out, attempting to thrust madly back against the invading length, but Trunks ignored him and pistoned his hips three times before pulling out and letting the blonde pick up where he left off.

Goten's mouth went dry. He didn't think he was gay. Okay, sometimes he'd have a wet dream that would involve another male and he did think his professor was kinda sexy, but at most he considered himself curious. He liked girls; well he thought he did. He certainly liked tits and pussy…or pictures of tits and pussy, he hadn't had any experience. But right now, the sight of Trunks and his friend fucking the other boy was making him hot as hell.

After udilating his hips a few times, the blonde backed away to let Trunks have his turn, but apparently the light-haired boy was in his stride; as instead of sitting back and watching he moved around to the boy's face. The redhead, being clever, opened his mouth and let the blonde slide in, sucking greedily along the way. The youth threw back his head and moaned, pushing his swollen cock deep within the other's throat.

_That must not taste very nice_ _considering where its just been,_ was the last coherent thought Goten had before his mind went numb with lust. He shuddered when the gorgeous blond threw back his head and tensed, apparently Trunks liked it too, as he groaned and reached around to grasp the redhead's bobbing prick. There was a scream as he tugged a few times and stream after stream of cum splattered on the ground. Pulling out, he pushed the boy aside and rounded on the blonde.

Gritting his teeth, the blonde collected his senses and grappled with the other boy, but he was still shaking from the after effects of his last orgasm and quickly was pinned to the ground. Trunks hungry mouth covered the blonde's for just a moment before he spun the boy around and lifted his hips. With his still slick fingers he prepared him, grinning as the blonde yelped and spread his legs wider to accommodate him. Quickly pulling the condom off to replace with a new one, he slicked himself up and pressed into the wet squeezing canal with a growl. He threw himself over the boy's back, pinning his shoulders down to the ground while he smashed his hips against the boy's pale ass with a resounding slap . The blonde was beyond words so he simply gasped as he was plundered over an over. The demi-Saiyan's hips jarred and shook as he tensed his back and thigh muscles, grinding his aching cock deeper into the channel that was clenching wetly around him.

Goten strained against his restraints unknowing, thrusting his hips in mid-air as if to get relief. This was…_wild_. Biting his lips he watched as his best friend rutted with the good-looking blonde who had teased him earlier.

A few more minutes past, before the blonde came with a yell, his contracting muscles pulling the demi-Saiyan's orgasm from him. Digging his fingers into the other's hips he pressed himself in as much as possible without hurting his friend as he emptied the last of seed. There was a pause as each collected their breath, and softly they muttered something Goten couldn't hear. The blonde looked in Goten's direction, and sighed a little in disappointment as he pulled himself up and trotted off into the darkness of the forest, leaving Trunks and the trussed up demi-Saiyan alone.

Once he was sure they were by themselves, Trunks shot a few ki blasts that cut easily through the ribbon allow Goten to jump free. He stared at his childhood friend with wide black eyes. Trunks mis-read this and flushed in embarrassment.

"Um, I know you're straight and all, so sorry about that, but I knew if I left you alone Vince, he's the blonde one, and Chad would have, um, well they would asked to basically do to you what I did to them. So I thought, I'd spare you the embarrassment…I guess I went a little too far and got—

He never got to finish his sentence as he was thrown to the ground. In a brilliant display of strength Goten pinned Trunks arms behind his back and clumsily crushed his lips to the other boys. Trunks stiffened in shock for about two seconds before retaliating, his erection stirring to life again. Breaking away he powered up and threw a blow to his younger friend's cheek. However he doubled over when a knee struck him in the stomach. They went on like that for a moment, until—surprise— they were back on the ground. Trunks rolled on top of the slightly taller boy.

"Are you sure about this?" he breathed, not wanting to jinx his luck, but he didn't want to push things either.

Goten bit his lip, "I don't know…I know I want to get off," he paused here, "but I don't want to, you know, have, well, I don't want anything.." breaking off again. Luckily Trunks apparently spoke 'nonsense' and nodded.

"I think I know what you mean," and with that he pressed himself on top of the younger boy, lined their cocks up and writhed against him. Goten's eyes rolled, he was a virgin in every sense of the word, excluding those long nights with his hand, so he found the sensation phenomenal. He felt so free, so uninhibited…so primal. He ground against the boy above him, thrashing back and forth as his prick rubbed between his washboard stomach and Trunk's hard prick.

The older boy moaned at the look of ecstasy on his friend's face, and swooped down for a kiss, letting his tongue trace the other boy's lip begging for entrance. Goten relented with out much coaxing and opened his mouth, allowing the tongue to slip past his teeth and explore freely.

Working a hand between the two of them, Trunks grasped both of their pricks earning a shriek from his companion. Wrapping his legs around the older boy, Goten thrust into his grasp, cock sliding in the oiled grip with thwap. Cursing and moaning, he arched his back and tore his fingers across the ground as he burst into his friend's grasp. Trunks was not far behind as he too released on the both of them.

Goten lay panting, his eyes drooping with exhaustion._ Maybe this religion crap, isn't so bad after all, _was his last thought before he let sleep overtake him.

Note: The earlier portions of this text was based on fact, however, what happened to Goten at the end does not happen in Wiccan ritual, (at least none that I have witnessed), this was simply my over active imagination at play. No offense was intended.


	3. Chapter 3 Altar Boy

Warning: From the title below, I'm sure you can surmise what kind of chapter this will be. Don't like it? Then with all due respect, piss off. This chapter will contain; a watery non-con, self-masochism, blood-letting, and mentions of underage.

Thou hast been warned.

Chapter Three: Altar Boy

Goten's fingers flew over the keyboard in a way they had never done before. It usually took hours of staring at a blank screen before he could muster the effort to write a few paragraphs. Now, however, he was _inspired _and all ready 62 words over the allotted 700. With a sigh of satisfaction he leaned back and surveyed his work.

"One down," he announced proudly to the walls of the small vacant room, "only two more to go."

He had opted to stay on campus during break. As much as he wanted to go home and spend his vacation with his parents, he knew himself well enough to know that he would be much too tempted to goof off and not work on his Religion's project. There were far less distractions here in his dorm room, especially since his friendly, but overbearing roommate with piss poor taste in music was out of town. And he had to admit, the lack of blaring rap music shaking the walls _was_ conducive to writing research papers.

He ran a spell and grammar check, during which time he thought over the prior night's events. To say that he was a little surprised with himself would have been putting things mildly. He admitted that there was a lot in the world he didn't know about, but he did think himself sure of his own personal sexual preferences. However, last night had opened his doors considerably wider. Though he still liked girls, and actually preferred them, he found out that boys weren't so bad either. He guessed the term 'don't knock it until you tried it' really did make sense. He made a mental note to ask Trunks more about this 'Vince' character later—he always had a thing for blondes. And speaking of Trunks; well, let's just say he'd never look at his childhood friend the same way again.

After their little romp in the dirt things had gotten quite awkward. At least at first, until Trunks assured that he wasn't attracted to Goten in 'that way' stating that he preferred older men and indeed had an open relationship with Scott, who was one of the other Coven members. Goten, in turn, attempted an explanation on his behalf. Yet, this proved to be rather difficult as he was very confused with his own behavior. He tried to say that he had gotten wrapped up in the moment but despite that, still didn't think he was gay. He then endeavored to rationalize why the site of a group of naked young men banging away at each other had turned him on so much.

Trunks had out right laughed at him at that point and told him not to worry about it, clarifying that the Beltane ritual often brought out the most primal of instincts in people. And after all, sex was sex, he just wanted to make sure that Goten wouldn't be pining after him since he was all ready emotionally taken.

The younger teen sent his retort in the way of a weak ki ball to his companion's head, which was dodged with a bark of laughter. While Trunks was his best friend, the thought of having that kind of relationship with him squicked him out. Even if that wasn't so, Goten would probably kill him due the older boy's biting sense of humor and lofty personality. No, they were much better off just as friends. Their relationship set in clear lines once more, Goten had thanked him for inviting him and told him to send his thanks around the Coven and set off for campus.

Now that he was finished writing the first section of his essay it was time to move on to the second, and luckily he was related to a devout Catholic.

Videl was overjoyed when Goten told her that he wanted to come with her to Easter Mass. However, her enthusiasm dimmed when he explained it was for a class project and not his own personal interest. Still, she agreed, saying that perhaps he would learn something and find the church to his liking and that her priest would be delighted to talk with him. His elder brother, though he loved his wife and respected her religious beliefs, refused to step foot in St. Christopher's or any religious circle, being an odd combination of both a Darwinian and a Marxist. But he approved of Goten's dedication to the project and urged him to go, murmuring quietly to keep in mind that faith and facts were two very separate things.

So it was on Sunday at 5:00 in the evening that he was sitting in the car with his sister-in-law on the way to Easter Mass. He had heard of St. Christopher's before, it was were Yamcha, or should he say Father Yamcha was presiding over; a fact that had been a source of never ending amusement at the Briefs' household. A few years ago Yamcha had 'found God' and had dedicated his life to serving the Lord. He threw himself into his religious studies and in an alarmingly short amount of time was made a full blown priest.

St. Christopher's was the oldest church in West City. In fact, many of the stones in the impressive building were shipped over from a much older church in Rome. St. Christopher's was supposed to be a reconstruction of the same namesake that had been the leading authority on ultra-traditional Roman Catholicism in Italy. It denied some of the reformations made by the modern Church and instead embraced its historic roots and teachings, considering itself pre-Vatican II. As such, Goten highly doubted he would be having the same kind of fun he had at the Pagan ritual.

They shuffled into the crowded church, politely pushing through the throng of people to find a bench that would accommodate the both of them. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, they found two empty spots between some rather large women and squeezed in. Immediately Goten wished they had found another place to sit. The overwhelming stench of Arsenic and Lace radiated off the older women and wafted over him, making him want to simultaneously gag and pass out. He prayed—ironically—that the service would be short and to the point, but from the way people looked to be settling in their seats, he doubted his luck.

The room was stifling. The church, for all its impressive architecture, lacked modern amenities such as air conditioning. It did, however, have a few electric fans situated at the sides of the pews. Yet, for all of their great mechanical whirring, they only seemed to push the warm air around rather than cool anyone off.

Suddenly, two rows of boys in full altar attire appeared bearing incense and candles. They walked slowly down the aisle lighting the pew candles with their own before retreating to the sides of the room. And then Father Yamcha appeared.

Goten made a choking sound which earned him a hard nudge in the ribs and a reproachful look from Videl. He muttered an apology, but his reaction could not be helped; the once desert bandit was almost unrecognizable.

He was dressed in the typical priest garb; all black, white collar. What was above the band of white, however, was anything but typical and the source of the teen's shock. The priest's hair was cut short to the scalp, nearly buzzed, causing the scar across his face to stand out all the more. Goten didn't know what to make of this; Yamcha had always been meticulous when it came to his hair. The good looking warrior had constantly fussed with his long black locks, never leaving it the same style or going longer than a half hour without finding a mirror. The teen considered him the most vain and shallow man that he knew—besides Mr. Satan. He, like his friends, thought that Yamcha's sudden interest in the church was yet another way to boost his image. Not only could he be vain, but righteous as well. Apparently they had been dead wrong.

It wasn't only his appearance that had changed, but his manner as well. Gone was the laid-back, easy going guy that had dropped by the house now and then with a smile and a pocket full of lewd stories to share. Instead there stood a middle-aged man draped in black with a severe, hard, visage that stared out into the heart of the pews where Goten sat.

The teen repressed a shiver, and looked down at his shoes. For some reason he found it difficult to meet the priest's eyes, yet when he glanced up he noticed that the hard look had softened into something warmer.

Father Yamcha graced the youth with a small smile before turning his attention to the members of his church.

"Welcome to third day of our most sacred Easter mass." He looked around the room for a moment before continuing, "I see many faces here today that were not here the previous two nights. I am overjoyed that so many of you could join us today," from the critical look on the priest's face and his slightly acrid tone, Goten highly doubted his sincerity, "but," he emphasized, "I urge you to remember that the praise of our Lord isn't saved for special occasions." He leaned over the altar and narrowed his eyes slightly. "We must not take God's grace for granted, for as today signifies, much was sacrificed on our behalf," he leaned forward a fraction more as if to loom over the congregation, "and we _do_ hold masses weekly." He then smiled, perhaps to signify a joke, however the gesture did not reach his eyes. The display caused several to shift in their seats uncomfortably. Braver souls ground out nervous chuckles but it was obvious that they were humbled by the thinly veiled scolding.

"Miracles, my friends!" Father Yamcha suddenly exclaimed changing the mood, "miracles!" His voice calmed, "On this holy day our Lord was raised from the dead to lead man to the paths of truth and righteousness. On this holy day Jesus Christ was resurrected, pure and free from the trails of man. He has risen and in Him all creation rises in new life. Let us give thanks for the many blessings He has bestowed upon us…."

While it wasn't the fire and brimstone he had expected, the Mass wasn't exactly a love-fest either. There was no 'damning' of anyone per se, but there was a lot of praying for the 'misguided'.

Goten wasn't by any means political, but he got a bit miffed that the congregation prayed for the poor misled souls who _chose_ to be homosexual. They prayed for them, not only for their life-style, but their foolish and sinful hope of ever taking part in the sacred bond of marriage, which was such a social hot topic right now. He could just imagine Trunks' reaction to all of this. A smile tugged at his lips as he pictured his openly gay best friend blowing the ancient roof from the building in a brilliant, but deadly, explosion.

The demi-saiyan was also not pleased about praying for those who did not accept the grace of the Lord— as the church deemed appropriate—and thus would never receive salvation As much as love and forgiveness was preached about, very little was shown, in fact, he got the distinct impression of the opposite.

Yet to be fair, most people at this church seemed to genuinely believe that the people they prayed for _would_ burn in Hell if they were not deterred from their destructive paths and came to the light or the church. So they prayed for their souls, so that they could be 'saved'. They _didn't_ want anyone to burn, but the contrary; not bane, but protection…from themselves.

Goten thought that they were the 'misguided', though he dare not share that thought aloud. Their hearts seemed to be in the right place; they wanted, apparently, peace and love for all of mankind. But to reach salvation, they chose the path of intolerance. And that didn't make any sense, at least not to him.

The Easter Mass included many hymns and prayers, most of which were in Latin. He couldn't understand a word, what he did know was that a lot of kneeling was required and he was getting quite tired of trying to prostate himself by big Bertha and her perfume of smelly doom.

At last, communion was given and people started to file out of the church. Soon after, the priest was able to take Goten back to his study where they would be able to speak in private. After thanking Videl—he would be flying back home—he caught up with the once dessert bandit who guided him through an archway in the back.

"Did you enjoy the service?" Yamcha asked, looking over his shoulder as he lead the way down the narrow halls and stairs that twisted into the bowels of the building.

"It was interesting," Goten answered honestly, noticing that the Father had a slight limp as he walked.

"Interesting," the priest repeated, chuckling to himself. "Well, I suppose you might have found it a bit drab. I know you're not exactly the church-going type."

From the tone of voice, Goten was unsure of how to answer. He was completely uncertain of how to act around this man. There wasn't a shadow of the Z warrior who had been a friend of the family for so long. Why such a drastic change? His own friends and family were baffled by the warrior's sudden interest in the Catholic church, especially such an ultra-traditional branch. However, he believed that Trunks' parents knew the answer. This was due to the fact that every time Yamcha was mentioned they would snicker and shoot each other cryptic looks, but they never bothered to share. Shaking himself from his thoughts he responded;

"Um, not really, sir," he mumbled meekly as they reached a heavy oak door.

The man before him was about to open the door but paused and turned to face him. "Sir?" the Father asked, smiling; again it did not reach his eyes, "Goten, you've known me since you came into this world. I've been a friend of your parents for well over twenty years now. Why the sudden formality?"

The demi-saiyan shifted on his feet, "I don't know, it's just," ah fuck it, he was growing tired of walking on ice, "well can I be honest?"

"Of course, I hope you would be."

"Well," he offered, "you're so different from when I last saw you and I'm not sure how I should talk to you now."

Dark brown eyes met his own and a small smile creased the older man's face, "Are you trying to tell me that I'm unapproachable, Goten?"

"No! Um," he really needed to stop saying that, "well, maybe just a little imposing."

Did he imagine that, or did Yamcha looked pleased about that statement? "Like I said," he continued, "you've changed so much."

There was a pause here for Goten to accommodate an explanation. Like he wasn't all ready uncomfortable; he hated being put on the spot. He stumbled around for an answer.

"You're so well spoken now, and you're so serious," _Duh, Goten,_ he reprimanded himself, _he's a priest now, of course he's serious._ "I mean I know you're in charge of this church now, so I guess you have to be more serious, but it's such a turn around. I hardly recognize you."

The father nodded, satisfied with the youth's answer. "Come inside," he beckoned, opening the door, "and perhaps I can give you an explanation if we have time. Take a seat."

Goten did so, seating himself in a antique hardwood chair. It was beautifully carved, but damned uncomfortable and he squirmed a few moments before settling down.

His eyes darted around the small room; he was surprised that it was so simple. He had been under the impression that the head of the church would have a lush office. Save the religious paraphernalia, this resembled the room that detention was held in back in high school; plain white walls and the basest of furnishings. A crucifix hung on the opposite wall but other than that the room was without decoration. There was a desk, a few chairs, and a shelf on the wall filled with books situated behind the desk the priest currently sat at. Goten did a scan of the authors and was pleased with himself that he recognized a few from his class. Chaput, Clement XIII, Pius XII, and a whole section devoted to John Paul II, apparently Yamcha's interest strayed to all forms of Catholicism not just his own.

The sound of the older man's voice took his attention away.

"Videl has told me that you're doing a project for a religion's class at the university?"

Goten nodded.

"Is this the same class that android 17 is teaching?"

"Yes."

Yamcha frowned slightly, his brows coming down, "I heard that he had recently earned his Ph.D. in Religious Studies and was given tenure, is this true?"

Again Goten nodded and shrugged, wondering where the scarred man was going with this.

"Times have certainly changed," the priest murmured ambiguously, drumming his fingers.

"Is there a problem?" the teen asked disconcerted.

"No, of course not, if the study has lead you here. However," his tone dropped an octave, "I urge you to be careful. 17 has some radical ideals about what he considers the search of faith."

Apparently, Yamcha had some quarrels with his professor, though Goten couldn't imagine why. It couldn't possibly be about the battle that took place before he was born, that was over eighteen years ago. Since then, the android had more than proven that he wanted nothing more than a 'normal' life. What ever altercation there was, it must have been on a personal level.

"Well," he provided, "I've not noticed any radical ideas while I was in his class. He's pretty objective, actually."

"Ah, but to immerse yourself in faith, you cannot be objective."

The teen didn't know why, but he felt the need to defend his professor, "I don't think he's trying to teach faith. He doesn't preach to us in class, he just talks _about_ religions." At least he was pretty sure that was the case, he wasn't exactly the best of students, thus his current visit.

"Even more dangerous," the older man muttered softly. "Well," he intoned with zeal, "hopefully I can provide some insight and perhaps perk your interest, hmm?" Goten was about to make another comment in defense of his teacher but looking at the man's face seated across from him he thought better of it and settled on a polite smile.

"So, tell me about this project and how I can help you with it ."

"Well, basically I supposed to study three different western religions and their rites. One of them is an Easter Mass. I basically have to have you verify that I was in attendance tonight and have you answer any questions I might have," he shrugged. "But it was pretty straight forward, I mean, I all ready knew what Easter was about." He stopped to consider, "I think the only things that threw me off was all of the Latin and I was a little confused when you said the third day of Easter Mass. Why three days?"

Yamcha took a moment to look over the boy across from him before answering. "Easter is not one day, though I'm sure you were taught that it was." He straightened, "It is actually referred to as the Easter Triduum. It begins on Holy Thursday," he explained, "with an evening Mass celebrating the Lord's Supper. The high point is the Easter Vigil on the tragic Friday of the Passion, in which our Lord was betrayed and crucified. Finally today, as you have witnessed, we closed with the evening prayer of Easter Sunday, the day of the resurrection."

"Oh," Goten said, scribbling in his notebook, "I didn't know that, thank you."

The priest nodded, a peculiar look on his face. The teen tried to ignore it by asking a few more question which were answered in the same steady tone. After writing a few more notes down he handed over the notebook to be signed and dated. The Father took the notebook and reached for a pen, but before writing anything down his eyes scanned over the previous entry.

"You went to the Lunar Tides Coven before coming here?" Though it was stated as a question, it came out more like a clipped statement.

The demi-saiyan affirmed the allegation pondering why he suddenly felt like he had done something wrong. "Professor 17 said I had to attend both and Easter Mass and a Beltane Ritual, plus a third of my choosing to complete the project."

"Did he now?" The priest's eye brows raised, "He's actually forcing his students to attend heathen rituals?" But apparently the question was rhetorical because he shook his head and said, "Hm, never mind. May I ask how you came by the Lunar Coven?"

Goten shot him an uneasy look. He really just wished the man would sign his notebook all ready so he could leave. He'd been uncomfortable from the moment he stepped into the building and it was getting worse by the second. He figured the best way to speed things up was to answer.

"Trunks brought me."

Yamcha sat bolt upright, "Trunks?"

Is there an echo in here. "Yes." 

The priest narrowed his eyes, "I wasn't aware Trunks was a member of this Coven, I thought," he got up from his seat and moved around his desk— again Goten noticed a slight limp— to pull out another chair close to Goten's. "You didn't speak to Trunks' parents at all did you?"

Baffled, he shook his head, "No, just him."

Yamcha let out a sigh of relief. "Good." The peculiar look appeared back on his face once more. "Well, at any rate I'm sure you learned much for you project. Tell me, you didn't actually involve yourself in the heathen ritual did you?"

Goten's eyes hardened and he gave the priest a cold look; he was getting quiet sick of this, "And what if I did?" he asked defensively.

Unexpectedly, the older man chuckled and laid a hand on his knee, "Goten, I'm not trying to chide you. You are, after all, not a member of my congregation. I was asking, because if you took part in their ritual, perhaps you should partake in one of ours." He smiled, not removing his hand. "Just to even things out. I'm sure it would earn you some more credit on your project. What do you say?"

Somewhat relieved, he thought it over. He really didn't want to, but Yamcha was right. He would definitely earn more points if he participated rather than observed.

"Okay, I'll do it," he said pensively. "What kind of ritual do you have in mind? The Mass is over."

A gratified look crossed the other man's face. "Oh, no, only a select group of members can partake in Mass. You must be purified, you see, to attend to such a holy rite. This is simply a purification ritual, which all of the young men you saw today had to go through to get to where they are now. However," he added, abruptly standing to shut the door, locking it, "before you fully agree to it, I need to tell you that this is a secret rite handed down over the centuries among the clergy. You must promise to tell no one. I will write that you partook in a confession, but you must leave the details out, do you understand?"

The demi-saiyan nodded hesitantly, wondering what he had gotten himself into. Though, the dismal thought of his mother's reaction of a 'F' on his first term grade sheet stifled any misgivings he may have had.

"Excellent." Yamcha said, eyeing the young man in the chair thoroughly.

"What do I need to do?"

"What we are about to do is called 'sin swallowing'. This is a purification ritual for certain types of sins put aside for the choir and altar boys. You're a bit old, but since this is more of a demonstration, I see no harm in it."

"Why is it only for young boys?" Goten asked, his curiosity piqued.

"It is usually for those between the ages of eleven and sixteen," he explained. "This is because youth does not often carry as much sin as adults do and those younger than ten or eleven seldom have need for such a ritual. Sin swallowing is only effective with small infractions, you see, so it's geared towards this age group." Yamcha sat himself down in the chair next to the dark-haired teen's. "It is only for young men, because women carry Eve's sin and thus are impure on a deep level, do you understand?"

Goten didn't, but wisely said nothing, settling on a nod.

"This will work like a confession. You confess your sins, but only those of a carnal nature. The sin will build up within you, and I, being a pure member of the cloth will draw it out of you and contain it. I will then transmute the sin until it is harmless and can be released."

"Okay."

The priest pulled his chair closer and laid both hands on the teen's knees. Thinking this was part of the ritual, Goten said nothing. "Traditionally the confessor is to disrobe, since you are not a member of my church we can skip that if you like."

"I'd rather not, if it's all the same with you."

Though he looked a little crest-fallen, the older man made a noise in the back of his throat and pulled something out of his pocket before he continued, "First I'm going to put this over your eyes, sin swallowing requires the confessor to be robbed of site, because sin blinds us all." Goten complied by shutting his eyes as a black eye-mask was placed on his face. "Now," the priest continued, "I'm going to ask you some questions and you must be completely honest." He paused a moment before asking, "Since we've all ready discussed it, we'll talk about the ritual you participated in a few nights ago. Did anything sexual occur?"

_Well that's cutting to the chase, isn't it?_ But he humored the Father, "Yes, it was the Beltane ritual which is a fertility rite."

"What happened?"

"A lot of people had sex."

The priest smiled frostily though the teen couldn't see it. "That's a little vague. Did you have sex?"

There was no answer.

Yamcha's hands traveled up higher on the boy's thighs as he leaned in closer. "Goten, you must be honest with me. Keep in mind that this is a confession; it is confidential," he reassured.

"Well I'm not sure," he admitted.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

A slow blush crept on the youth's face. "They were performing a ritual called the Stag Hunt. The priestess walked around the circle with a pair of antlers to choose who would be the sacrificial Stag."

"And whom did she choose?"

"Me." Goten answered, feeling a little warm as he reminiscenced.

"And then what?" the voice before him asked softly.

"Then all of the men in the group dropped their robes, they were completely naked underneath with symbols painted all over their bodies." He heard the other man's breath catch, but ignored it, going on, "They began to chase me through the woods, I pushed my ki down because Trunks told me that I was supposed to let them catch me."

"And did you let them?"

The memories of that night flooded his mind, he could still see the naked, toned bodies running through the trees, the torches illuminating their sharp curves in a play of shadow and light. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly a bit dry. Plainly, could he hear the hoots and cat calls and the ruckus laughter that followed. He could still smell the sent of damp earth and sweat…and the hint of male musk. Vivid was the sensation of leaves scattering under his skin as he was thrown to the ground. A fire built within him, the memories becoming more clear in his blinded state, stirring him to arousal. He shifted in his seat, but the hands on his thighs stilled him.

"Yes, I did," he answered, his voice huskier than it was a moment before. "I let one of the men I had met tackle me to the ground. All of the others showed up with a large pole. They stuck it in the ground and held me up to it. They hammered a plank underneath my feet so that I could stand and then…" He trailed off as his erection strained painfully against his jeans, his mind's eye recalling every detail. Then he remembered where he was. He wanted to smack himself. What kind of pervert was he? He was in a Catholic church in a priest's office, for fuck's sake. And then it registered that he wasn't wearing a loose long T-shirt, but a tucked in polo shirt. The priest had to have seen his hard-on by now, especially since he was sitting right in front of him. His cheeks went scarlet in humiliation.

Yamcha must have sensed this because a warm breath suddenly ghosted his ear.

"It's okay," and without warning he felt a hand caress him through his jeans. He started, shocked and jolted by the sensation.

"What-what are you doing?" he asked apprehensively.

"Shh," the petting continued. "It's all part of the ritual. Let the sin build within you. Don't hold it back or we cannot cleanse you. Now continue."

But that was easier said than done, a sea of conflicting emotions were whirling in his mind and the light pressure on his crotch was making him even harder. On one hand, he wanted this to end so that he could go home. This didn't feel right. But if he did put a stop to this, then Yamcha might refuse to sign his notebook On the other, more sordid, hand, the light touches were pretty nice and re-telling the tale of his night with the Wiccans made his prick twitch delightfully. As it usually did, hormones won over logic and so, with a shaky breath, he continued.

"They cut off all of my clothing with a knife and then some of the men rubbed me with oil."

"Where?"

"My head, chest, knees, and," he knew he must have been beat red by this point, "my penis and scrotum."

"You're doing well, Goten," purred the voice. He felt the pressure on his crotch deepen and a slight moaned escaped him despite his best efforts to synch it. "Don't hide it, my son," the priest urged, "let it out, let the sin build. Keep speaking."

The teen rocked his hips into the fondling hand, he felt the priest's other hand smooth down his chest. "Then…oh.. then some boys came out with baskets of ribbon, they tied them to the head of the pole and handed the ends to the other members. They danced around me…" he let out a gasp as his belt was loosened and his jeans undone, "tying me to the pole. Then the guy who tackled me told everyone that I was his catch and asked if anyone was going to challenge him." He moaned again, louder this time when the hand that had been tantalizing him, reached in and grasped his weeping cock freeing it from its restraints. "No one did," he finished gasping.

"What else?" the voice perused.

"And then he took the knife and pretended to cut my throat. He took the antlers from my head and left with a lot of the men. But some stayed..oooh"

A palm wrapped around his cock stroking him slowly but firmly. Goten widened his legs allowing the man to settle between them.

"Very very good, my boy, you are ready for me to start extracting the sin that has accumulated," he tugged the prick in his hand harder to indicate what he was speaking about. This caused the teen to yelp in pleasure and nearly fly out of his chair, "Keep speaking," the Father commanded, "do not let my actions deter you from your confession. You must admit everything."

"Oh..Okay," he breathed. "Trunks walked up to me and told everyone that I was his carcass." That didn't sound quite right but at the moment it was difficult to speak coherently. "A few left, but two stayed to challenge him..OH!" A warm wetness enveloped him, sucking slightly on his heated flesh. He arched off of his chair, but strong hands dug into his hips and held him down.

"They..they started to, oh God..to wrestle one another for a little while, but one, the red-head gave up. Trunks and the blonde guy then took some of the oil that they put on me earlier and coated their fingers. Then…"He rolled his head back panting as the suction increased, "Then they put their fingers inside the red-head…they kept moving in and out until finally they put on some rubbers and took turns with him. The blonde guy must not have liked to share because he moved around to the red-heads mouth and made him suck him off."

He heard a muffled moan from beneath him, but as he was told to ignore it, he went on.

"When they were done with the red head, Trunks and the blonde went at each other, but of course Trunks won and he then did the same thing to the blonde as the redhead. I..I liked watching them, but I don't know why. I like girls, or I think I do." He blushed further at the admission. "I wanted to join in, but I didn't…at least not like that." He was very close now and it became harder and harder to speak.

"By the time Trunks was done with his friend," a breathy moan, "I was going insane, so when Trunks let me loose…I j-jumped on him. I let him know that I didn't want, yesss,"

Moaning, he arched off of his seat into the mouth that was sucking the 'sin' from him, he heard an echoing moan. He couldn't believe it. He was getting his first blow job from a priest. Not only a priest, but Yamcha. A hand squeezing his thigh, urging him to continue, but he was so, so close. Gritting his teeth, his hands balled into fists, he attempted to speak;

"I didn't…I didn't want anything…_in_ me, and Trunks was okay with that. So we wrestled around…oh God… for a second and Trunks grabbed…he grabbed both of our pricks and…." He couldn't hold back, "jacked us off." The memory of that encounter sent him spiraling. Letting out a shout, his back arched and three hot shots of his seed spurted down the throat that surrounded him. The suction continued for a moment, and then his wet prick was released. He shivered as the cool air in the room hit wet prick, but he was quickly tucked back into his pants which were re-fastened, his belt re-done.

"You did well, my son," came a voice hovering over him, thick with lust, "But we're not quite done yet. I have swallowed your sin, but now it must be nullified. And sins of pleasure can only be cleansed through pain." He heard a chair scrape back and the rustle of fabric. "You will hear many things, but you must keep the blindfold on, no matter what."

Goten nodded.

He heard the sound of a drawer open and shut and the sound of more clothing being pushed around. Finally, he heard the slap of bare feet walk to the back of the room. A low murmur of Latin chanting reached his ears, but it was the SNAP and cry of pain that caused him to jump.

The sound repeated several times before, curiosity burning, he reached up and pushed the blind fold up a fraction to take a peek. However, he would have to turn around to see anything and he was unsure which direction the priest was facing. Luckily for him, the extra chair the Father had been sitting in had a steel back, making a damn fine reflective surface. He waited for the next SNAP and pushed the chair slightly with his feet until it was lined up with the priest.

His jaw dropped in shock at what he saw. Yamcha's face wasn't the only thing that was scarred, lines upon lines of ugly red grooves crisscrossed the man's naked back and he looked to be adding to them. He was kneeling completely nude before the crucifix hanging on the wall, his back to Goten. While he couldn't see the Father's face, he appeared to be praying, but that wasn't what interested him. Gripped in his left hand was a funny looking whip, a cat-o-nine tails, if he wasn't mistaken. He'd seen one in a horror movie a few years back, but this was no movie. Yamcha was flogging himself. The skin tore open easily before the vicious snap of the tails. Thin trails of blood seeped from the wounds and snaked down his back, looking like a macabre road map of the city. The youth couldn't believe what he was seeing, and then his eyes traveled down and his body stiffened utterly stunned.

Yamcha's other hand seemed to be also well occupied. Again, Goten couldn't see it, because it was in the priest's lap, but the jerking movements of the wrist left no doubt in the demi-saiyan's mind what he was doing. The priest's litany was suddenly disrupted by a heavy moan and he shifted. Goten's eyes widened even further. He now saw the reason for Yamcha's limp. A spiked belt called a cilice was wrapped tightly around the Father's thigh, the barbs of which were imbedded deep in his skin. _What kind of sick freak is he?_ Goten wondered frantically just as the priest arched and came with a cry all over the wall.

He wanted out of here, and he wanted out of here now! But he could not tear his eyes away from the kneeling man. He found it morbidly fascinating, and slightly erotic. Which disturbed him terribly, but he watched on as the priest continued to slice himself open again and again. But his intrigue was cut short when, unexpectedly, the priest rose to his feet. Quickly pulling the blindfold down, he slumped back in his chair.

A few moments passed in silence and Goten was beginning to feel tendrils of panic creep over him when he abruptly heard a voice in his ear,

"You have now been cleansed. Do not speak of this to anyone. Leave this room silently. I will guide you to the threshold, walk five steps before taking off the blindfold. Place it on the floor and leave the church."

Goten stiffened at the chill tone but nodded. A arm guided him to the door, he heard it unlock but and the door handle jostled only a moment before the sound ceased.

The teen felt something thin and smooth pressed into his hand; it was his notebook.

"I have signed this for you. Inside you will find my contact information. I urge you to use it, not only for this project, but for yourself. I think you could learn a lot from us, my son, and do well by it." There was a pause and he felt the pressure on his arm increase, "You wondered why I have changed so much; it is because I have found salvation within these walls. I was once a foolish, sinful, vain man who cared for nothing but himself. I hit bottom, and went to the most foulest of places to try to restore my soul. But I saw the light. I educated myself and came here, and now my life is truly blessed." The hand moved up to squeeze his shoulder, "I don't want you to go through the same trials that I did before finding the true way. Please consider what I have said."

Another nod.

"Goten, while I meant what I said about being careful around 17, there are others whom you know whose wicked paths are much, _much_ more dangerous than your professor's," he intoned in a grave whisper. "I know you need to find a third religion to write about, but promise me that you will not go looking for it at Capsule Corporation."

Goten opened his mouth in question, but a hand was swiftly placed upon it.

"Shh! Remember, silence." The voice grew urgent, "You must promise me, Goten, for it is imperative to the very safety of your soul that you stay away from Bulma and Vegeta on this matter. Do you promise me?"

A wary look crossed his face but he nodded again.

"Excellent," the older man clipped, his voice normal once more, "You would be a bright and shining addition to our fold, but for now, my son, go. I hope to hear from you soon in the near future."

_Not fucking likely,_ Goten thought as he was guided out of the room. Once he heard the door close behind him he instantly ripped off the blindfold and threw it to the floor, not bothering with the five steps he was supposed to take. He wanted to get the fuck out of this creepy ass place a.s.a.p. and he wasn't going to waste a second.

As he sprinted up the steps he wondered frantically what in the hell was up with Trunks' parents and why Yamcha was so paranoid about them. He could not comprehend what could be the cause of such terrible dread. But then he considered what had just happened to him in the priest's study. His dark eyes narrowed angrily.

Though he had been warned against it, perhaps a visit to Capsule Corporation was just what he needed to put things in perspective.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Okay, I admit there wasn't as much action in this chapter as the last, but this is basically building up to ch 4, which will be the most debauched bit of trash I have ever endeavored to write.

Also, before you mention it, I know Yamcha as a priest of a traditionalist Roman Catholic church is a stretch, but I didn't want to use an OC character. I needed someone in the Z gang to fill the role, and Yamcha was the closest to fit the bill due to his tunnel vision. I may touch on this more in the next chapter.

Below are some boring legalities, feel free to ignore them.

**For those who nit-pick, Note**: Smut and depravity aside; while I have some knowledge and experience with the other pathways that will be touched on in this fic, I have never attended a Catholic service. As such, this is based purely on research and nay say. As this is the only Christian pathway, I've mixed in a few other factions of Christianity that I _have_ experienced to round it out, so please withhold the quibbling if it isn't exactly right or if something sounds too Protestant. I did the same in Ch 2 by mixing in other RHP/MHP factions other than Wicca, as I will do the same with Ch 4.

**Reality check, Note**: Obviously a lot of this is made-up (or at least I hope so) as it is indeed a piece of fan**fiction**. Yamcha's behavior is not typical to the Catholic Church or Christian pathway, (at least none of the ones I've attended or witnessed). No disrespect was intended to the actual pathway(s).

**Should be obvious, but in case it's not, Note**: While writing naughty stories is fun, let it be known that I, in no way, shape, or form support sexual misconduct or abuse on children, or _anyone_ who doesn't give their full and sound consent.


	4. Chapter 4 Devil's Little Soldier part 1

WARNING: (Pertinent to parts following this section) This chapter will offend you.

Well, that just depends on you. It is defiantly going to raise some hackles, but eh, I'm willing to take that risk. This is not, I repeat, NOT for anyone squeamish, or anyone with a lot of scruples. The first three chapters are fluff in comparison to this, so I advise you, if this isn't your cup of tea back off now.

Contents (after part two): Bondage, S&M, Blood letting, Het (you heard me), Yaoi, Orgy, Double Pen, Ritual Sex, Masochistic Torture, Master/Slave.

However, this will NOT contain non-con or rape. Last chapter aside; I fucking hate non-cons! Everyone in this chappie is willing and ready.

As for the pathway, look at the title; I apologize for nothing.

Still want to read?

Then by all means…

Chapter Four: Devil's Little Soldier (part one)

Goten flipped through his notebook before looking at his computer vacantly. The yellow hue of his desk lamp reflected in the screen. His eyes transfixed to the glare, unmoving.

He'd been sitting here now for two and half hours getting no where fast. Try as he might, he couldn't concentrate. He looked at his bedside clock, the red digits reading 10:05 p.m. His dark eyes then sought out the phone sitting on his roommate's desk. Goten had wrestled with questions burning in his mind since he walked through the door. The answers of which could possibly lie in the black handset only a few feet away.

"No," he said aloud, "it's too late. I'll call in the morning."

He typed another line and did a word count; 420. Goten frowned and leaned back in his chair. What else could he write?

'The Catholic Church is filled with time honored traditions. An example of this is the head priest giving the choir boys blow jobs while they flog themselves and jerk off.'

He doubted that Professor 17 would approve. But what was the deal? He knew what had happened to him wasn't right. The Church's sex scandals were infamous, but he never thought it was going on so close to home. Well now he knew first hand. Seed swallowing…what a joke. Yet, if this was so wrong, why did it feel so good? A sense of shame welled up within him.

Goten wasn't naïve; of course he got pleasure from it; he got a fucking blow job for Christ's sake. What did bother him was the slight thrill he had gotten from watching the priest bleed on the tiled floor of his office. The mixture of Yamcha's cries of pain and pants of pleasure had made his—all-ready-spent—cock stir.

Goten snapped his notebook shut.

"Fuck it."

He leaned over and snatched up the phone punching in the number quickly, lest he loose his nerve.

He drummed his fingers anxiously during the first three rings, on the fourth he nearly hung up when a woman's voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Erm, hi."

There was a moment's hesitation, "Hi," the voice repeated slowly, "who is this?"

"Goten."

"Oh hey Goten! What's up? Are you looking for Trunks?"

"No, ma'am," his heart was pounding in his chest; he really didn't know how to begin this conversation. "I...I was wanting to know if I could talk with you and Vegeta—if you have the time, that is."

"Sure you can. What about?"

"Um, well I'd rather talk to you in person if that's okay.

"No problem." Another pause. "You're all right aren't you?"

"Yeah, it's just…well, when can I speak with you?"

"Well, tomorrow we've got to be somewhere—

"Oh," Goten said thwarted, "don't worry about it then. Sorry to have bothered you…"

The other woman said something but he was so busy drumming off excuses and apologies he had to pause and ask her to repeat herself.

"I _said_," she stressed, "why don't you drop by now?"

"Oh, um," This was unexpected, "isn't it late? I wouldn't want to bother you."

"No way, you're never a bother. Besides, we're night owls here. So why don't you bring your little butt by and we'll talk."

"Well, if you're sure."

"Goten," she said sharply, "get your ass over here."

"Yes, ma'am."

He hung the phone up, staring at it as if it held the secrets to life. That had gone much better than he expected but now what?

Speaking with Trunks' parents had never been a problem. He was given a lot more lee-way at his friend's house than at home and took advantage of it, never hesitating to say what was on his mind. He'd always envied his friend in this respect. His mother, though he loved her dearly, was a bit of a prude. As such, he didn't talk to her about a lot of things. And his father was so damn dense at times he didn't bother. Bulma and Vegeta, on the other hand, were both highly educated and not easily offended when it came to the moral high ground. While Trunks found this embarrassing at times, Goten thought it was awesome. But this could be crossing the line. He was going to ask them about the taboo subject of religion. Which that in of itself perplexed him. He had never heard Vegeta or Bulma ever talk about anything remotely spiritual before. This also brought to mind Yamcha's words of caution.

Yamcha.

He grabbed his jacket and scooped up his notebook and pen. Damn his reluctance, he was going to ask about the priest's ominous warning. It was obvious that something big had transpired between the three of them. So much so, that the scarred man was scared shitless of the couple even though he tried to hide it with contempt.

The demi-saiyan's mind was whirling with questions, so wasting no more time he threw open the window and leapt into the night sky.

Bulma was waiting for him, standing on the balcony with a mug curled in her hand. He landed next to her lightly, they greeted one another and she led him into the kitchen. She pulled out a chair, pointed to it and then offered him some tea, which he accepted.

As she handed him a steaming cup the striking form of the Saiyan Prince entered the room. He nodded his head in the slightest of acknowledgements before moving to the refrigerator.

"What's this about?" he asked without looking up as he snatched a bottle of purified water.

Goten fidgeted in his seat and stared down at the tabletop. Perhaps he should have asked to speak with just Bulma. Vegeta could be extremely intimidating even without meaning to. And this was a touchy subject. He'd never approached the other man with anything this personal before. Maybe he'd been too rash. He chided himself for not thinking things through first.

The lack of a response caused the elite to turn and look at him. But it was Bulma's concerned voice that reached his ears,

"Goten?"

The teen looked up. They were both staring at him; Bulma sitting across from him at the table and Vegeta leaning against the counter top.

"Have you talked to Trunks recently?" he asked.

They couple looked at each other.

"He called a few nights ago," the blue-haired woman replied, "Why? He's not in some sort of trouble is he?"

"Oh no," the demi-saiyan assured, "I was just wanting to know if he talked to you about helping me with a class project."

"He mentioned something about it, but didn't go into detail."

No help on that front. He'd been hoping that his friend had divulged some information about the nature of the project so he wouldn't have to. But now that he thought about it, he guessed Trunks didn't want to be too open about it. Telling your parents about your sexual conquests was being a tad too candid, at least in his opinion. But nevertheless he was going to have to start talking judging by the expectant looks he was receiving.

"Well, I'm taking Introduction to Western Religions with Professor 17 and we're doing a special class project."

"Oh," Bulma beamed, "Trunks took that course. He loved it, said 17 was one of the best professors he'd ever had."

"Yeah, he's pretty cool, but um, anyway," he said getting back to the point. "I have to write three 700 word essays on three different religious paths. I also have to meet with members of these groups and if possible participate in one of their rituals each."

"That sounds excessive for an introductory course," the prince intoned with a raised brow.

"Yeah, I kinda have to do more work than everybody else to bring my grade up."

"Why?"

He glanced at the older man, "Because," he bowed his head, "I've skipped class a few times and haven't turned all of my homework in."

Vegeta shook his head.

"Lazy brat."

"Well," Bulma said, "how bad is it? What's your grade right now?"

If possible his head dropped further,

"23 percent."

He cringed at the exclamations thrown his way.

"I know, I know, I screwed up big time, but please don't tell my mom." He looked at them imploringly. "She'd kill me. Besides," he said, straightening, "if I pull this off I can pull my grade up to a C-"

"You're damn lucky the android is giving you a second chance," Vegeta reprimanded, "I would have thrown you out on your ass. And a C- isn't that great—

"Give him a break, Vegeta, Sheesh."

Goten smiled his thanks at the woman seated next to him. She returned the gesture with a wink.

"Getting back on track," she continued gracing her husband with a look. He grumbled for a moment but otherwise stayed quiet. "Of course we won't tell Chi-Chi. But I'm fairly sure you didn't call to talk about your grades. So what's going on?"

Taking a breath he began his explanation. He told them about the Ostara festival, omitting certain parts of course, and then moved on to this evening's activities. The moment the words 'St. Christopher's,' left his mouth he was interrupted, both by a scoffing sound coming from the direction of the elite and the genius who spoke.

"Oh, Goten," she groaned, "why didn't you go to St. Luke's or St. Paul's if you had to attend an Easter mass? St. Christopher's is such a purist branch."

"No shit," Goten cut in, a frown etched on his face. He immediately apologized for his cursing, but it was waved off. "Videl took me; it's the church she attends."

"Hmph, I forgot that your brother's mate was involved with them." Vegeta's lip curled in disgust. "I'm impressed that you were able to sit through all of that self-loathing bullshit without blowing the place up."

"Eh, I don't get too wound up about things like that. But," Here it comes, "I spoke with the priest."

"Old scar-face?"

"Er, yeah," he paused to see if Bulma would chide her husband's choice of wording, she didn't, "He took me downstairs to his office…" his face flushed with the memories of the past hours. He trailed off and looked at his shoes, not knowing how to proceed, not knowing if he could.

The silence drug on until he heard the sound of chairs sliding against the floor next to him.

He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder.

"Did he do anything to you?" came the quiet question from his right.

He risked a glance up. Vegeta was sitting next to him with an unreadable look on his face. The hand on his shoulder, however, belonged to Trunks' mom. She had moved from her previous position and was now sitting at his left. Her face was painted in anxious worry.

A flush crept deeper over his cheeks and after a hesitation he nodded keeping his eyes glued to the ground.

"That fucking bastard! I knew it!"

Goten's head shot up in shock to see Vegeta's retreating form heading for the balcony. He vaulted from his seat and caught up with him just as the older man was preparing to blast off.

"Wait! There's more. Let me explain."

The Saiyan prince halted and looked down at the teen beneath him, he then gazed at the woman who stood behind him. Goten didn't see the exchange, but whatever Bulma's expression was, it was enough to get the Saiyan to stalk back inside the room.

They sat down once again around the table. Vegeta was livid; his jaw set and his fist clenched at his side. His wife wasn't doing much better, but she had enough control over herself to ask;

"What exactly did he do?"

Goten was understandably upset by this point. How had they known? He was beyond confused. However, he forced himself to answer, even though he originally had no intention of sharing this bit of information. All he wanted to know was why Yamcha didn't want him to go to them as far as spiritual advice. This was too humiliating and he felt his eyes burn despite himself.

"A ritual." he said softly.

"Go on," the blue-haired woman urged, placing her arm around him.

He felt instant comfort wash over him and with more strength in his voice he went on.

"He called it 'Seed Swallowing,' it's…it's." He broke off, Kami, how was he supposed to explain what Yamcha had done. The confession cum blow job was bad enough, but afterwards…he fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably.

"We know what it is. You don't have to explain."

Though still visibly furious, Vegeta's eyes had softened.

"I could have stopped him if I wanted too," Goten admitted in a whisper, "I'm a lot stronger than him, I could have stopped— But, I didn't. I agreed to it." He hung his head guiltily.

"Did you know what you were agreeing to at the time?" Bulma asked, tightening her hold on the youth.

"No. But once I found out I didn't want to back out because I was afraid he wouldn't help me with the project. Plus…" he trailed off. He didn't want to admit that he enjoyed it, especially since they knew what it was; blood and all. "I should have stopped him, huh?" he asked in a small voice.

"Goten," Vegeta this time, though the teen didn't look up, "you shouldn't have been put in that situation to begin with. He fucking manipulated you."

The teen lifted his head to protest, knowing full well that the man next to him considered him a weakling for not standing up for himself. But an additional hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"I'm not blaming you, boy. The prick has a lot of practice from what I understand. I'm sure he made the whole thing seem perfectly natural."

Goten nodded and gathered his courage, "He did, but I'm all right. No—' he held his hand up when Bulma opened her mouth to speak. "I am. That's not why I came here." He took a breath and squared his shoulders, "He warned me against coming here for my third religion. He said that you two were essentially up to no good and for the sake of my very soul I should stay as far away from you as possible. I want to know why. You two don't strike me as the religious type."

The question seemed to throw them off. They stared at each other for a long moment before finally Bulma answered.

"We're not, in the classical sense of the word. However, we are affiliated, and in fact, are chair members of an organization that Yamcha devoutly hates and has a personal grudge against." She paused, her cerulean eyes settling on her husband. There was a silent exchange before she spoke; "Should we ask _him_?"

Goten was confused. Ask who?

"I don't know if he'd agree, but given the circumstances…" the prince trailed off and got to his feet. "I'll ask. Goten's old enough now, anyway. Besides it's for educational purposes, not morbid curiosity."

She nodded and watched as her mate of twenty years vanished from sight.

"What's going on?" Goten asked.

"I'm trying to see if we can take care of your third religion as well as get a grip on what happened to you tonight. Speaking of which," she motioned to his empty cup, "would you like another? Or maybe something a bit stronger, considering the night you've had, I promise not to tell your mom."

Despite the situation, that earned a grin.

"Thanks, but tea will be fine."

She grinned, "I'm impressed, Trunks would have jumped at the chance, not that he gets any around here. Though I'm sure he has his fill of booze on campus."

"Nah, he's all talk."

Bulma blinked, a vacant look on her face, "Wonder where he gets that from?"

They both chuckled. Goten was dying to know what was going on. Several times he ventured to question the woman further but she kept asking him about school and his family before he ever got the chance. Half an hour passed this way until he felt an approaching ki. A few moments later Vegeta swept into the kitchen a pleased look on his face.

He leaned against the counter in his previous position and looked at Goten. "Are you free tomorrow night?"

"Yeah."

"Do you still need a third religion to write about?"

The teen inclined his head, "Yes."

"Good, then be here tomorrow night by 8:00."

The day seemed to crawl by agonizingly slow. Vegeta and Bulma offered no further information the night before and he had left shortly after. His mind was buzzing and it wasn't until the early hours that sleep finally claimed him. Waking around noon, he had gone about his day lazing about. He refused to work on his project until tomorrow; there would be no point in looking at it now considering that he was going to be taking care of his third and final religion tonight. But because of this, each hour seemed like two as the day slowly drug by. He attempted to busy himself with web surfing and video game playing. But even these mind-numbing activities were disturbed by the flux of questions racing in his head, and you could only die so many times to the sound of "Fatality" before you grew frustrated.

Throwing his controller down in disgust he thought about spending a couple of hours at home to visit with his family. He'd at least get a good meal out of it. But for some reason he just didn't feel up to it. He glanced at his watch again for the hundredth time; 5:27 p.m.

'_Are they part of some kind of cult?' _he wondered. _And who did Vegeta talk to? Who is this mystery 'he'? If it turns out to be some sort of therapist I'm going to be pissed. I shouldn't have told them about the whole seed swallowing bullshit. I swear their worse than my parents sometimes. It's not like I had to suck **his** cock. But they wouldn't do that would they?... Bulma said organization, like they're part of a business group or something. That would make sense; she does own the most powerful corporation in the world. But how is that religious? Unless it's like the Masons, but…well maybe that's it. Still, I didn't think Yamcha would get so bent out of shape over them. But then again,' _his mouth turned down, '_he doesn't like people who live outside the social norm either. Maybe they're Mormons! That'd really get him going, wouldn't it?'_ The minute that thought passed his brain he couldn't help but grin, _'Well, okay, not Mormons. Masons, maybe, but defiantly not Mormons_,_ not with their lifestyle. Besides, Yamcha wouldn't have been that fearful if it was something like that.'_ He looked out the window, staring at the street below him, _'Fucking Christ, what in the hell happened to him? He used to be pretty cool, now he's molesting boys? This doesn't make sense.'_

He shook his head, clearing away his thoughts. It was senseless sitting here pondering what was to come, he'd find out soon enough. In the mean time, he decided the best thing for him would be a walk to the local fast food joint to get a cheap meal. His mother wouldn't approve, she hated what she termed 'junk food on the fly'. And he had to admit his mom's cooking was a hell of a lot better, taste wise and nutritious. But he wasn't up to going home. He couldn't look her in the eye, not after last night. What would she do if she knew her little boy was a perv?

"Probably send me to Kami house, to live with Master Roshi," he mused out loud. Even though he was trying to make light of the situation he couldn't shake the disgrace that hung over him like a cloud. What was wrong with him? He asked this of himself more than any other question today, and considering the day, that was saying a lot.

After he had eaten, time seemed to catch up with itself. He hurried back to his dorm took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and stood bare ass in front of his wardrobe pondering what to wear.

"What in the hell kind of place am I going to?" he mumbled, shuffling through the many tees in his closet. During the Wiccan festival he was told to wear rugged casual clothing. And obviously he had to dress nicely for the church, but this? Sighing he decided to do the best of both worlds. He pulled on a pair of boxers and socks and chose a loose, but nice, pair of jeans and a collared shirt. After doing some more touch ups in the bathroom he was ready to go and just in time too. At 7:54 he touched down on the front lawn of Capsule Corporation.

A young blue-haired, blue-eyed girl was the one to greet him at the door.

"Hey Goten!" she smiled up at him crazily. Before he could open his mouth to reply she had turned her head and shrieked.

"MOOOM, DAAAD, GOTEN'S HERE!"

"Damn it, Bura, don't scream like that!"

The girl turned her head and stuck her tongue out at her older brother. He pushed past her to his child-hood friend in the door way.

"Ah," Trunks said sweeping dramatically in front of him, "come in, brave soul."

"Freak," Goten replied as he walked past him. "What are you doing here? I thought you were spending the rest of your break with your," he paused, "friend."

"Scott," Trunks supplied giving Goten a pointed look. "I am, but tonight it's animal control—ow, I mean baby-sitting," he corrected as he was kicked in the shin by his younger sibling.

"I don't need to be baby-sat, Trunks!" Bura retorted angrily, shooting glances at Goten beneath her bangs. "I don't know why mom and dad called you."

"It's because they don't want their precious little doodle bug to come to any harm."

She turned a bright shade of pink, "Don't call me doodle bug," she hissed again looking at the other teen before blushing even more. Goten graced her with a grin. "And I can take care of myself," she finished.

"Okay then, I'll tell you the truth." He crouched down on her level, "You see, since I've moved out, I've gotten real home sick. I can't even fall asleep without turning a light on at night it's gotten so bad. And, well, I thought if I spent some time with my little sis I'd feel better."

The girl eyed him incredulously.

"You're a looser, Trunks."

Goten burst out laughing. Trunks seemed unfazed by this,

"Oh come on, just hold my hand. Give big brother a hug." She squawked with indignation when he scooped her up hurling insults along the way. Somehow she managed to squirm out of his grasp and made a bee line up the stairs and out of sight.

"That went well," Goten said, snickering.

"Didn't it, though?" He smirked. "She has a crush on you, if you haven't noticed."

"Yeah, I kinda picked up on that."

"Hm, I'll have to talk to her about her lousy taste in men," Trunks intoned with a raised brow, "Anyway," he continued, "I have to say that I'm impressed."

Goten looked at him, "About what?"

"You. You're actually going with mom and dad." He shook his head, "Wow."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see. Besides, I'm shocked that they agreed to let you come."

"Why? Haven't you gone with them before?"

"Nah, it's not my thing. Besides, I only came of age two years ago, and by that time I had all ready been a Wiccan for three. I'm happy where I'm at."

Goten crossed his arms, "You're being evasive on purpose aren't you?" His face grew serious, "Did I get in over my head, Trunks? Seriously? Is this going to freak me out?"

At his friend's change of demeanor, Trunks' face softened in understanding.

"That depends on you. I'm not privy to the exact goings on, but let's put it this way. My parents agreed to let you come with them, which means they think you can handle whatever there is to handle."

That made him feel better even though he was a bit disappointed that Trunks hadn't told him where he was going or who his parents were associated with.

"Oh good, you're all ready here."

Goten turned to see Bulma. Her hair was swept up but otherwise she was dressed casually which put him more at ease with what he was wearing. Vegeta was behind her, impatiently urging her towards the door.

"Come on, we need to go."

She waived her hand in the air "All right, all right, we're going." She looked at her eldest child, "Make sure your sister is in bed by 9:30, not a second later."

"Yes, mom, I know."

"Well, don't let her con you into anything—

"Bulma!" the prince cut in.

"Okay!" She muttered under her breath before picking up her jacket, "We'll be back from the temple no later than 1, there's plenty of food in the fridge."

Bells went off in Goten's head. _Temple_. So they were Jewish. He smiled to himself, satisfied that he had finally figured it out, and chided himself for getting so worked up in the first place.

"Got it, bye mom," he said pointing to the door, which his father was grateful for.

Rolling her eyes she allowed herself to be ushered outside. "Come on, Goten, apparently the world's going to end if we don't get in the car this second."

"Apparently," Vegeta retorted as he walked towards a vehicle that cost more than Goten's entire education twice over, "you want to ride by yourself, while the boy and I fly over."

After bestowing her husband a look and a universal, if not rude, gesture she sat herself in the driver's seat and started the engine.

The trip itself was uneventful and full of small talk. Goten leaned back comfortably in the leather lined back seat. Now he understood what all the fuss was about. St. Christopher's was one of the Christian sects that did not forgive the Jews for the betrayal of Christ. It made sense that Yamcha wouldn't want Goten to have anything to do with them. Feeling loads better now, he enjoyed the ride, not really paying attention to where they were going.

It was only when the car paused at a gate and Bulma lower the window to speak to a guard did his attention perk. Since when did synagogues, have guards? Well with places like St. Christopher's around perhaps it wasn't such a far fetched notion. Shrugging, he leaned back as they pulled through the gate. They went down a lane for about a half of a mile before a huge building loomed into view. Goten sat up and scrutinized it more closely, he expected something a lot more…humble. This place looked like a manor straight out of the movies.

"All right there, Goten?"

He looked up to see Bulma studying him from the rear view mirror.

"Yeah, it's a cool building."

He cringed, ''_Cool building', what in the fuck was that? I'm such a dork._'

However this seemed to appease the woman and they pulled up without another word. He got out of the car and looked upward at the several spirals that looked medieval in construction.

"Impressive isn't it?" The blue-haired woman asked.

Goten nodded and looked at the man standing next to her. He'd been eerily quiet since they got into the vehicle. Right now he was looking at him with a guarded expression.

"Come," he said simply and started up the steps towards a set of double doors.

Bulma motioned in front of her to allow him to go first. He jogged up the steps wondering why the Jewish community would want to put their temple all the way out in the sticks. There was nothing out here at all, just fields and woodlands. In fact, now as he looked around, he bet they were in the same county that Tara lived in; the priestess he had met earlier through Trunks.

Well, perhaps they were fanning out. He jogged up the last few steps to join the Saiyan who stood at the top awaiting him. He was watching him closely as if gauging him for a reaction. It unnerved him to be honest, he couldn't understand the reason for such a look. It was then his eyes caught the engraved letters etched into the stone above the door. His blood ran cold.

This was not a synagogue, and Bulma and Vegeta were not Jewish.

Above the door it read;

'THE BLACK TOWER

TEMPLE OF SET'

Author's note: I thought this would be a good place to stop. I'm working on part two as we speak. (Yes, yes, I know, I keep prolonging all of the sex stuff…I'm working on it now, I promise!) I hope to have it up and running within a week. I apologize for the large gap between postings. I've just moved from Missouri to England, and I've been without the internet for awhile.


	5. Chapter 5 Devil's Little Soldier part 2

Devil's Little Soldier (part two)

Goten's jaw dropped, hanging like a hinge that had been rusted through. He gaped at the carved letters absolutely stunned.

He had heard about the Temple of Set in class. The details of the lesson were fuzzy because yet another argument had broken out among his classmates and he had tuned it out. But he learned enough to know which particular religion the Temple of Set represented.

He turned his head slowly to look at his best friend's parents in incredulous shock. They regarded him coolly but expectantly.

He looked at the engraving again just to be sure his eyes were not playing tricks on him.

"You're…" he muttered softly trailing off, "You're Sata—

"Do we need to go back?" Bulma asked suddenly, a note of disquiet in her voice.

Goten looked at her. One shapely eyebrow was raised in question, but there seemed to be an air of defiance around her. He then glanced at the man standing behind her.

Vegeta's black Saiyan eyes were fastened to him, fixed in their intense stare. The message was simple; this was a challenge. The youth's reaction would redefine the elite's opinion of him for better or worse.

The demi-Saiyan turned and looked at the door again, scrutinizing it. A good thirty seconds past before he reached a decision and spoke. He straightened and regarded the woman next to him.

"No," he said calmly, "I'd like to go in if that's all right."

The smallest of smiles broke across the prince's face as he moved past him and pushed the intercom button next to the doorbell. No voice answered but a mechanical hum sounded above them. Goten looked up to see a camera that he had not noticed before swivel slowly round to point at them.

With a 'clank' the door swung open.

Bulma smiled.

"Well, go on in," she said as if they were standing at the gates of Disneyland.

He hesitated for a second, but nodded and walked through the threshold uncertain of what was beyond.

He was surprised to find himself in an open atrium filled with the remains of the sun's setting rays. He had been expecting some dark vampiric lair with torches on the walls and muffled chamber music playing through the air. But this place was obviously well equipped with modern technologies such as electricity. Point in case; a chest high security desk complete with monitoring screens was sitting quite at home between two larger than life grand spiraling stairs.

A young woman sat behind it, setting aside the book she was reading to get to her feet.

"Mr. Vegeta, Ms. Bulma." She inclined her head.

They returned the gesture.

She motioned behind her towards the left-hand wing.

"He's waiting for you in his office."

"Good," Vegeta clipped turning to Goten. "I'll take you." He glanced at his wife, "I believe everyone's expecting you in the ballroom."

She nodded and sighed, "I don't see why they're making such a fuss."

"Well, it is _your_ day. Take advantage of it."

A grin broke across her face, "You're right." And with that she walked past the reception desk down the hallway into the heart of the building.

The Saiyan's eyes followed her for a few seconds before he remembered himself and gestured to the teen to follow him.

As they climbed the stairs Goten's head began to spin. Satanists! Fucking Satanists! He was in a Satanic building, with Satanic people inside it. His mother would kill him! And Trunks' parents…his mouth went dry. He could not believe it. And now he was going to talk with their, what? Leader? If Vegeta felt _he_ had to ask permission from this guy then he must be pretty damn scary. A knot of dread formed in his stomach. What horrors was he going to bare witness to tonight? Or worse yet, what horrors were going to happen to him? '_Shit!' _he thought, _'I bet they need a virgin sacrifice! How did they know I haven't gotten laid yet!' _Panic welled up within him, his clenched his clammy palms trying to fight back the terror that threatened to overwhelm him.

If Vegeta sensed his unease he didn't say anything. Instead, he led him silently down a maze of hallways Goten was sure to get lost in if he trailed behind. Finally, they went up another flight of stairs, beyond which a pair of mahogany doors awaited them.

Vegeta rapped upon the lacquered wood twice before entering.

Goten braced himself for the worst and unknowing moved behind the older man for want of a shield.

"Well," the prince suddenly snapped, "go in. No one's going to bite you."

"Unless, of course," a deep voice replied from within the room, "you do something to deserve it and then I very well may consider it."

Goten's head snapped up in recognition. Stunned, he peeked around the other Saiyan to confirm what his ears had told him.

"Piccolo?"

"I see your memory is in working order." He waved his hand, beckoning him inside, his eyes however shifted to the prince.

"I see you lured him here without too much of a fuss."

Vegeta smirked, moving aside so that Goten could enter the room.

"'Lured' isn't the word I'd use," he said cocking his head. "He nearly wet himself on the way up here. I thought the carpets were going to have to be cleaned."

Though shaken, Goten still had the wits to shoot him an indignant look.

"Come off it, boy, I could smell the fear rolling off you."

His face flushed in embarrassment.

"Is that so?" Piccolo asked, regarding the teen lightly.

Goten managed a short nod before quickly moving across the room and sitting himself down in the chair indicated without looking up.

He heard a sigh, "Well, it seems I have some educating to do." There was a pause, "Can you see to the preparations?"

"Yeah," Vegeta answered, "Bulma's all ready in the ballroom."

"Good. I'll join you by ten."

Goten did not look up to see the elite's response but shortly after he heard the door click shut leaving him alone with the Namek.

There was a lingering silence until Goten risked a glance up at the green man sitting before him. He was smirking, apparently amused.

"That's better," he said, "I was beginning to think you found your shoes more interesting than me."

"Oh no," Goten said quickly, "Um, I just—I just never been to a place like this."

"Obviously not, judging from your behavior." He leaned back in his seat, "So, where do we being? Vegeta came by last night and told me that you're doing some sort of project for school in which you have to study three different religions. He informed me that you've visited two."

"Yeah, the Lunar Tides Coven and St. Christopher's," he supplied.

"I heard that you had a less than pleasant experience at St. Christopher's."

Goten simply nodded, he really didn't want to talk about it. Surprisingly, Piccolo didn't question him further on it; instead he asked if Goten knew anything about the Temple of Set. He said that he had heard about it in class.

"What did you hear?"

"It's Satanic," Goten replied lamely.

"And what precisely _is_ Satanic at least as far as the Temple of Set and the Church of Satan is concerned?"

"Um…you worship Satan."

Piccolo's brows drew down slightly, "Which class are you taking?"

"Western Religions 101."

"Not the one 17 is teaching?"

Goten nodded, "Yeah I'm in his class."

A perplexed look crossed the older man's face, "And he told you we worship Satan?"

"Not exactly."

"What did he tell you?"

"Um…" the teen trailed off, a blush creeping across his face, "I don't really recall, I wasn't paying too much attention."

"Ah, I had wondered what Vegeta meant by 'lazy-ass kid' now I understand."

A frown creased the teen's face but he didn't argue; it _was_ his lack of attentiveness that landed him here. Yet, the Namek's tone caused him to halt briefly in his indignity and consider what he had just heard.

"So," he asked timidly, "you don't worship Satan?"

"Goten, don't be insulting. The Christian's devil is hardly worth my notice, except for study in mythology. Besides," he said with a bit of a sneer, "Do I look like the type to worship anyone," He paused, "Save, perhaps, myself?"

"Well then why are you called Satanic?"

Pleased Goten was becoming a bit more forthcoming, Piccolo answered without hesitation.

"The Church of Satan was started in 1966 by a man called Anton Szandor LaVey who had a flare for the dramatic. I believe he chose the character 'Satan' as a symbol of rebellion for his 'church', but more so, at least in my opinion, it was for shock value." He sat up, resting a crimson clad sleeve on his desk. It was then the teen took notice of the elegant mandarin-collared shirt that was in place of the training gi he was so used to seeing on the tall warrior. It suited him well, but the impression it gave was a far cry from the down to earth man he had come to know. He suddenly felt underdressed.

"There _are_ those," the Namek continued, "who worship Satan, but they are not worthy of our attentions and we have no affiliation with them. The term 'Satan' is used by some of us to represent defiance to 'normal' social structures or habits. As Lucifer defied God, so LaVey's ilk defies the constraints of modern institutions and especially those of so called moral values. You looked confused."

Goten didn't realize that it was so apparent, but he responded nonetheless.

"You're talking about the Church of Satan; I thought you were the Temple of Set."

"The Temple of Set is an evolved form of LaVey's church, started by a member of the COS by the name of Michael Aquino. He was less than pleased with bureaucracy of the church and wished for a more refined, academic environment. He and a handful of other disgruntled members started the Temple of Set in 1975. Of course those in the COS vehemently deny any claims of evolution, stating instead that the Temple of Set is a blatant rip off." He waved his hand in the air dismissively, "It's on on-going debate, and I won't bore you with the specifics. This temple, The Black Tower, is more of a middle ground, though it is under Setian jurisdiction. The main difference between the two is that The Temple of Set, which uses the Egyptian deity Set as their avatar, is more intellectually motivated and has a higher complexity to its hierarchy." He paused, "Shouldn't you be taking notes?"

Startled, Goten hurriedly flipped through his notebook to a clean page and started scribbling down info, asking the Namek to repeat the names of the founders and the dates. Piccolo supplied them patiently before moving on.

"You have visited the Lunar Tides Coven, so I assume you are familiar with Right Hand Path practices and credos."

The demi Saiyan simply nodded, still uncertain what to make of the green man before him. Although his explanation has settled his mind somewhat, the teen had made the mistake of letting his guard down before with Father Yamcha and he wasn't about to do it again.

"The Temple of Set is obviously a Left Hand Path. From your lack of understanding before, I take it that you don't remember anything from class concerning the LHP."

The teen muttered that he hadn't.

Piccolo look unperturbed, "Before we go any further, there are several differences between the Left Hand and the Right Hand that you should be made aware of. First and foremost," he began slowly, "the Left Hand Path is not devotional, at least not with us. We do not worship gods, demons, or spirits, save, as I alluded to before," he paused, "our own fundamental nature. We exalt only ourselves and our endeavors and we strive to realize the full potential that lies within," he leaned forward slightly, "to become gods within ourselves."

The words seemed to echo in the room before he moved on, leaving Goten with a tingling sensation in his chest, "We attract and exude power that reside _inside_ ourselves, whereas the Right Hand tends to center on _outside_ forces in a polytheistic or animistic fashion. We do not follow the 'ancient ways' that those of the Right Hand cling to, because frankly," he said derisively, "the so called ancient ways are no more than romanticisms of the true past. We respect history and study it, learning from it through real evidence left to us in the form of archaeological finds, classical texts, anthropological studies and so forth. The terminology we use, such as the use of the deity Set, is out of admiration for the intellects of the past."

As the bass voice continued, Goten eased himself more in his chair, his hand moving in time with the dulcet tone, the pages filling themselves as if it was on their own accord.

They did not perform sacrifice, he found out, nor anything else that was remotely against the law. This was nothing more than an overblown elitist college as far as he was concerned. No wonder Vegeta and Bulma were attracted to it; it venerated the ego. This wasn't sinister at all, not in the least bit scary.

Though he found it interesting, he was also a little disappointed. Even if it wasn't a devil-worshiping cult he had hoped there would be something…sinister about it. This sounded more like a yacht club for academics. But if this was so, then why was Yamcha so against them? The blatant fear and abhorrence in his voice had been unmistakable. He had to know why.

"At St. Christopher's," Goten began, "I was told that this…," he searched for a word, "organization was purely evil, yet I've not heard a single thing that is vaguely immoral. I know that a lot of it is because of ignorance, but that doesn't explain why it is so utterly hated there."

"I'm impressed, Goten, I had wondered when you were going to take the initiative in this conversation."

A small blush crept across the bridge of the demi Saiyan's nose, but he said nothing as he awaited an explanation.

A tiny grin tugged at the Namek's lips. "You are right, ignorance does account for the majority of it, but not all of the animosity at St. Christopher's—or more appropriately from Yamcha—is due to lack of knowledge alone." He drummed his fingers on his desk for a moment, considering how much he should share with the young man across from him.

He let out a breath and settled back in his chair, "Goten," he said in a familiar tone, more reminiscent of the warrior the youth was accustomed to, "you certainly don't have to talk about this." Goten stiffened knowing where the conversation was going, "but Vegeta informed me that while at St. Christopher's Yamcha preformed a ritual on you called 'Seed Swallowing'."

The teen's face darkened, closing off any expression. In a low but even tone he replied with a simple "Yes."

"You do of course realize there is nothing to be ashamed of, at least on your part, don't you?"

He shifted in his chair and his eyes darted to the floor. He heard the man sigh but didn't look up.

"I'm not going to share the history of 'seed swallowing' with you; needless to say it is a tradition that does not require the other party's consent. No one should be put into that situation, especially children."

"I'm not a child!" Goten snapped, his gaze now up from the floor and fixed on the man before him.

"I didn't say you were, but the ritual is usually carried out on those under the age of 17. It shouldn't have happened period, but I'm surprised that it was done at all considering your age." He cocked his head, "Usually those over 17 have a tendency to…tell."

A look of disgust suddenly crossed his sharp features, "I had heard rumors that this sort of thing was going on at St. Christopher's but I simply thought it was my members venting their dislike for the church. There was never any evidence."

"Well it happened."

A nod. "I believe you."

There was no look of pity on the other man's face, but for some reason the demi-Saiyan felt like he was being sympathized with. He suddenly felt defensive. "You know, I'm not some innocent victim, I could have gotten out of it if I wanted."

Piccolo raised a brow, "Why didn't you then?"

Goten crossed his arms, wishing for the millionth time in the last few days that he would learn when to keep his mouth shut. Quickly he supplied a reply, even if it was a half truth.

"I was afraid he wouldn't sign my notebook."

"Is that the only reason?"

The question threw him off, he expected the same reaction that he got from Vegeta and Bulma; righteous outrage and reassurance that it wasn't his fault; that he was simply manipulated. He opened his mouth to utter a 'yes, of course it was', but when he spoke,

"N..no."

"Did you enjoy it?"

Goten squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of the Namek. But he wasn't going to buckle under the stress, he had been under enough as it was. He didn't care anymore, and he certainly didn't give a damn about shocking anyone, not at this point. So matching the nonchalant tone of the conversation he leaned back and said,

"Well, I _did _get a free blowjob, what do you think?"

However, the reaction he received was utterly unexpected.

A small chuckle broke the air.

"I wonder, was that all you enjoyed?" His eyes fixed to the teen's across from him, "Or, perhaps, Yamcha bleeding and moaning on the cold hard floor added to the excitement, hm?" A calculated dark smile slowly crept upon his face, his eyes narrowing slightly as the grin curled upwards bearing the white tips of his fangs. "Especially when you knew that you were the cause of it."

Goten stared, utterly shell-shocked. If Piccolo expected an answer he wasn't going to get one; he was simply beyond forming a coherent thought little alone words. Luckily no reply was needed as the Namek continued undisturbed by his guest's alarmed expression.

"Tell me," he whispered, the low rasping sound went straight to the boy's spine, "did you sneak a peak as he tore his skin open? Did you watch him as he flayed himself while his free hand was otherwise _occupied_?" He let the word linger in the air before he leaned forward slightly never breaking his gaze from the youth's, "Or did you simply listen to the liturgy of Latin broken by heavy pants and the snap of a whip, knowing behind closed lids that those sounds were not ones solely of pain?"

Fucking hell, he was in a room with Hannibal Lecter! It felt as if someone had stuffed a dozen cotton balls in his mouth. The sinister element he felt had been missing from this visit kicked him square in the gut. It was as if the wind had been knocked from him but that wasn't all. Piccolo was right; how he had known was beyond him, but it recalled the wicked tendrils of pleasure from that night while he was seated in the ornate wooden chair the blindfold pushed up just a fraction so that he could watch the mirrored image of the priest 'purifying his seed' in gruesome detail.

The green man studied him for a moment watching the blood drain from his guest's face before sliding his crimson clad arms slowly back across the polished surface of his desk. The ominous grin he wore muted into a satisfied smirk as he leaned back in his chair.

"The reason," he began slowly, "Yamcha so hates The Temple of Set is because he was refused membership into it."

The demi-Saiyan remained unmoving in his chair while sweat poured uncomfortably down the back of his neck to trickle between his shoulder blades cooling in a sticky mess against the heavy cotton of his shirt. It took him a moment of staring before he realized that he had been spoken to. As his brain belatedly registered the words his brows drew down in perpelexion at the sudden change of atmosphere. Apparently Piccolo was satisfied with the results of this psychological game he was playing, but he could not quite comprehend what the Namek was going on about.

"What?"

"You asked why Yamcha so hates the Temple, I was merely answering your question."

Goten shook his head, "But Yamcha is a priest…" he trailed off.

"He is now," Piccolo supplied, "but several years ago he was simply a very confused man searching for something to fill the many voids in his life." He paused and added as an afterthought, "I dare say he still his."

"Why did he come here?" Goten leaned forward in his seat, his uneasiness temporarily forgotten, "And why was he refused?"

"I assume he came here because he knew of Bulma's affiliation. As to why he was refused that must remain confidential. I am only telling you this much because of the ritual that you partook in last night."

Goten had a guess as to why and he voiced it.

"No," Piccolo said softly shaking his head, "it was not because he was a 'kiddie-fiddler' as you so put it. Though that certainly would be grounds for rejection. He wasn't so at the time and I believe despite his recent actions that he truly isn't a pedophile by nature. I consider that to be his branch's influence. However," he added raising a brow, "the fact that he so easily succumbed to their logic was a good part of my reasoning to deny him entry." His lip curled slightly, "We do not receive weak willed individuals."

"What kind of individuals _do_ you receive?"

"Those of talent," he replied off-handedly. "Two members you are familiar with; Vegeta should be obvious enough given his heritage and prowess the same with Bulma who is world renowned for her genius and drive. Ambition is crucial in an individual but it must be balanced with wisdom."

Somewhere a clock chimed.

Piccolo stood.

"Well I'm afraid that's all the time I have to spare for the interview. I hope it was sufficient?"

Belatedly Goten nodded also rising to his feet. This was the part he had been dreading; the practical part.

The tall man must have sensed his unease because he asked for Goten's notebook.

"I'll sign this now," he explained, "before the rite. If at any time you feel uncomfortable and want to leave you should be able to do so without fear that your grade will suffer."

A sigh of relief passed the teen's lips as he handed over the thin book he had been duly writing in and wringing in his hands nervously throughout the meeting.

Piccolo filled in the pertinent information with a quick but steady hand.

"Stay here, I will return shortly," he said as he handed the notebook back and walked past him.

Goten watched him leave then slumped back in his chair nervously.

What was in store for him?

As he chewed over the various horrible things that could possibly happen to him his eyes scanned the massive bookshelves that lined the walls. Most of the names he had never heard of, out of the hundreds of authors he recognized the philosophers Pluto, Nietzsche and Machiavelli. The subjects themselves ranged from World Religions and Mythology to Medical Journals and Archaeology Reports. Directly behind the desk there were several black bound books. LaVey, he recognized as they had been discussing him earlier, the rest he could not place; Mathers, Levi, Flowers, Agrippa, Cavendish, Webb, there were countless more. In the bottom corner covered with dust was the one name that had stood out in class; Crowley. But from the looks of it Piccolo did not think much of it as it looked abandoned.

"They're ready."

The voice startled him. He looked over his shoulder and his eyes fixed to the black open robe added to the green man's ensemble. It swept up dramatically as the Namek entered the room. He felt like he was in a Harry Potter book.

"Who are ready?"

"The members, of course," came the reply, "I had discussed the prospect of a visitor with them before but I wanted to verify should anyone develop cold feet. Not that my ilk would," he atoned with a hint of pride, "but best to be cautious."

He produced a black piece of material.

"You will be required to wear this. Simply place it over your clothes and at all times wear the hood unless you are instructed otherwise." Goten accepted the robe, but unlike Piccolo's it wasn't open. As he pulled it over his head the Namek continued in a hard voice, "I will say this once and only once so pay close attention."

Goten immediately quit fussing with the fabric around his head and looked at the older man.

Black eyes set on one another.

"The information I have shared with you thus far is available to the public so by all means take advantage of it in your essay. However," his eyes seemed to shimmer, "the identities of the members must remain anonymous. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. See to it you remember that beyond all else." The severity of his tone ended with that statement as he regained a more neutral pose. "I would not include you in a ritual I was fearful of airing out to the public but considering the nature of it and the sensibilities of the weak minded population you may want to be vague."

The demi-Saiyan looked uncomfortable but remained silent.

"Bearing in mind this is for an essay for a college course I'm sure you will have limited readers. As such, I'm not too concerned, so you may write about whatever you like," a wicked smile touched his lips, "depending on how bold you are of course."

"o..kay"

The Namek smirked unhelpfully but he did add, "At any time you may leave. Simply say so and someone will lead you out." He motioned the teen forward and out of the office. "Now we must hurry." He paused, "But before you agree, I'm warning you that, though most of our rituals are not, this one will be of a sexual nature."

Goten stiffened.

The warrior's face softened slightly.

"I do not expect you to participate," he assured, "only to observe. What I do expect of you is to say something should you feel uncomfortable. Your notebook is signed so you may leave now if you want to. However, I think given the circumstances of last night and from what you have said...and haven't today that you will benefit from this." He cocked his head slightly. "So what will it be?"

This was a question of trust. He trusted Piccolo, but he had also trusted Yamcha. Logically he should leave, in fact, a good part of him wanted to. But if Piccolo could make good on his word and make sense of the mess of last night, well then perhaps it was worth the risk.

"I'm coming."

He said it before thinking it through, but in retrospect that had been his theme throughout this entire project. He only hoped he wouldn't regret it.

Continued in Part Three

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Author's Note: The statements made about the history of the Temple of Set and Church of Satan are true to the extent of my knowledge and experience. I have mixed aspects of both together in terms of names of factions and attitudes for the purposes of this fic. However, both have their own distinct credos and hierarchies which I fully respect and acknowledge. Further additions to this chapter are of my own making and have nothing to do with practices of either establishments.


	6. Chapter 6 Devil's Little Soldier part 3

Devil's Little Soldier: Part Three

(Author's Note: If you have not all ready done so, please read warning in Ch 4 part one before proceeding.)

He smelled the blood before he ever saw it.

Piccolo, who's face was now hidden from view under the hood of his robe, had lead him through the elaborate maze of the manner down a series of stairs.

Night had fallen. Not that it mattered in their current location. They had descended into a crypt.

"To better understand," the man ahead of him explained, "the sadistic pleasure you indulged in last night, you must first witness the delicate balance…and partnership," he added, "between ecstasy and pain."

The rough hewn walls gave way to clear glass.

The smell of blood intensified filling his nostrils and hitting the back of his throat like wine.

He heard a mixture of screams and moans but even with these warnings he was unprepared for the writhing body and metal that came into view.

Chrome.

The darkened room looked like a lab out of a scientific thriller. Everything was metallic; the walls, ceiling, floor, but it was the orb in the center of the room that provided the main attraction. It was lit by a spotlight that served as the only illumination in the room. Within it dangled a small well-sculpted man with what suspended in mid-air devoid of all clothing save for what appeared to be a black bag over his head.

Holding him aloft were four robotic arms tapered by cuffs that cut into his bound wrists and ankles. The sharp pieces of metal produced ribbons of crimson to flee over pale skin unto the mirrored surface below. The teen was surprised to find that the back of the man was also visible as a massive mirror served as the back wall. Goten could plainly see the muscles of his shoulders and buttocks flexing and tensing against the painful restraints.

An eye-less leather mask was secured tightly around his skull. Where the mouth should have been was a bright red ball that stood out glaringly against the black coloring of the material. The youth was a bit troubled to find that he could just make out saliva wetting the rubber mouthpiece dribbling over the leather clad chin. His eyes traveled upward to thin slits over the nose. It was the only access for air and from the sounds of the rapid breathing it was only partially doing its job.

It was obvious the man in front of him was in pain; he shuddered and strained against his restraints crying incoherently around the ball that blocked his mouth. The demi-Saiyan's gaze fixed on the writhing body, his stomach knotting uncomfortably.

ZAP

Goten flinched when an unexpected burst of electricity crackled from the orb. The thin blue veins of energy coursed from the machine in intervals over the naked trapped form causing it to jolt violently.

Like a dog shaking off water, drops of blood flew from the pale skin as it vibrated with the current running through it. They landed on the floor looking for all the world like emissions from a can of paint. Goten did not know how long he could sit by idly and watch this.

The sound was horrible. The sizzling hum filled the air bringing to Goten's mind the incongruous image of his father slapping on a hamburger on the grill at the family barbeque.

Accosted with this image mutating with the scene before him, the breath left the demi-Saiyan's body in a rush. But a strong arm steadied him before he could crumple to the ground.

"Just watch," Piccolo murmured before releasing him.

Luckily the torture unfolding before him lasted only a few moments before a strong feminine voice broke the air.

"Stop," it commanded.

The blue tendrils disappeared instantly.

His Saiyan eyes picked up on a feminine form slinking across the top of the room. It seemed there was an upper level as well. The figure crossed the ledge and seated herself on a cushioned chair he had not noticed before. She was nude as well. The light emanating from above lit the lower half of her body and just the bottom of her breasts, but the rest of her remained in shadow. Despite the gruesome scene before him, Goten's mouth went dry as his eyes roamed over creamy white skin and dusty rose-colored nipples. The woman's sculpted legs were crossed blocking any further interesting views.

"Plug him up," she commanded.

Goten thought he knew the voice but it wasn't familiar enough to pin point.

Two darkly robbed figures appeared both bearing slim silver cases.

Even through the glass Goten could hear the faint click of the containers as they were opened.

His eyes set upon silver implements.

A six inch thin metal probe was produced by a latex gloved hand of one of the cloaked figures. His partner produced a large black knobbed piece of hollow rubber.

The teen gasped then blushed. Pornos had taught him something; he didn't know what the metal was for but he recognized a butt plug when he saw one. Granted, he had never laid eyes on a hollow butt plug before.

The figure holding the rather wide, in Goten's opinion, sex toy disappeared into the darkness to reappear behind the hovering victim. Without further adieu the butt plug was shoved unceremoniously between the captive's clenched cheeks. The victim yanked violently against his cuffs letting out a grunt. The sharp movement opened the wounds on his wrists and ankles further heightening blood flow. Rather inappropriately Goten thought that had been rather rude; the could have at least used some sort of lubrication.

"Harder," the woman demanded, "The little whore likes it all the way up his ass."

The black robbed figure obliged.

There was another groan but Goten's eyes widened as a throaty moan shortly followed. Somehow, he wasn't sure where, the atmosphere had changed. But it wasn't the noise the poor soul was making that caught his attention. No, it was the vivid purple erection rising proudly from the tight dark curls between his legs.

"You see," said the tall man beside him, "there are those who thrive off of pain and humiliation, and those," he nodded his head towards the woman who had opened her legs to reveal a shaven pussy, "who enjoy causing it."

Goten's mouth watered as he watched a demure finger push back the bare lips of her vagina to probe her swollen clitoris. His own cock stirred to attention.

"And still others," the Namek added as if he could sense Goten's arousal, "who enjoy watching it."

Goten was beyond caring now as he watched the woman touch herself and the man buck against the air as if he was trying to penetrate the emptiness itself apparently oblivious to the anguish he had been in earlier. Goten didn't know which was more tantalizing and his attention moved between the two. The feeling that this was wrong and should be stopped was overcome by the desire…and need to watch.

A flash of silver caught his eye. It was the probe. The figure who held it roughly grabbed the man's erection keeping it steady. Goten let out a gasp as the figure slowly inserted the piece of metal into the man's urethra.

A scream broke the air.

Goten looked away.

"Is this too much?" Piccolo asked evenly.

"I…"

But the scream tapered off into a groan before Goten could finish. He risked a look back. The man was now tossing his head erratically, attempting to thrust but the figures both had a hand each on his hips. When he quieted, they removed their grasp to concentrate on their task; both moving their chosen implements slowly in and out of the bound man's body.

In the back of the room the mirror revealed black rubber stretching the light puckered hole; in and out it went as if it were being simultaneously devoured and divulged. In the front; the silver probe had dimpled the delicate skin around the tiny hole as it was slowly twisted and turned.

"Now, do you understand why you felt the way you did last night?"

Goten nodded, he was incapable of speaking at this point.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. It is natural to be fascinated with the eccentricies of others. To derive pleasure from their pleasure and—for some—their pain." He cocked his head, glancing over the shorter man next to him. "You are not a sadist in the purist's sense. I do not think you enjoy pain alone, but pleasure resulting from pain. However, whether or not you enjoy causing it will answer that question more fully." He looked at the scene before him. Goten followed his gaze.

The trapped man had wisely kept still, but his head was thrown back and he moaned and panted around the ball gag. Saliva spurted out against it in a rather unappealing display. He whimpered as he physically appeared to move his legs farther apart but alas it was to no avail as the motorized arms held him tightly.

The woman spoke again.

"Fill him and cage that unwieldy thing before it spits."

The metal probe was carefully removed and placed aside. The figure in the back however left his toy in but stepped back into the darkness. A mechanical hum filled the room. The arms suddenly moved counterclockwise around the great chrome oval as the bound victim was moved upside down. Figure number two reappeared with something in his arms. It looked like a water pump judging from the gurgling sound and hose that appeared in hand. Back in front, the other cloaked figure returned with a wicked looking silver contraption held almost reverently in his hand. It looked like a hollow metal banded cast of a cock and balls; it was here that Goten understood what the woman meant by 'cage him'. The male chastity belt was wrestled none-to-gently around the captive's genitals. Luckily the man's erection had slightly wilted.

Goten shifted uncomfortably as his own erection throbbed painfully against the fabric of his trousers. The guilty desire from last night was back full force only this time it didn't feel so wrong. He could not tear his eyes away. But looking away was the last thing he wanted. It took all of his concentration not to touch himself.

The hose was inserted into the hollow end of the butt plug. A glurping sound reached his ears as a strangled cry broke the air. A moment passed and Goten watched in morbid fascination as the man's stomach began to expand.

"Mmm…yes" the woman hissed, "fill him up."

His eyes darted up to settle on the source of the voice. She had graciously draped her legs over the armrests of her chair giving Goten a clear view of her dripping pussy. Two fingers were already buried deep inside the slicked hole, her thumb stroking the small pink bud above. Her other hand was filled with her right breast, kneading in succession with the man's futile thrusts.

The man's belly grew larger and larger until he looked impregnated. But it didn't stop there. More and more it swelled. Goten was alarmed at how long they were allowing this to continue. He looked like he was going to pop! Right as he was about to say something it ceased.

"Whip him," the woman all but moaned.

Goten watched, eyes nailed to the scene before him.

The hose was removed and he heard a 'snap' as the butt plug was closed. One figure disappeared into the darkness while the other procured not one, but two vicious looking bull whips. The robe of figure was dropped to the floor revealing a well muscled man with dark hair Goten did not recognize. He was shirtless, and Goten had to admire the toned form of the stranger. Expertly the man wound the instruments to life, whirling them in the air like serpents in water. The aero dynamics continued for a moment until one licked at the prisoner's back followed by its twin. Goten thought the 'Snap' that it produced was too small for the amount of blood that sprayed from the wound, however he was not disappointed by the scream that ripped the air.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

The only reply was the escalating 'SNAP, SNAP, SNAP' of the whip.

The inverted bound man screams mixed with moans and shouts of ecstasy. Goten could smell the heavy musk of his desire and he could see the leaking purple flesh held ruthlessly in its cage straining for liberation. Thee teen's erection wept with him seeping pre-cum through the cotton of his boxers into the cloth of his trousers. As the whips came down again, rich blood misted upward in the air and unto the screen separating the howling man from his observers.

So filled with lust at this point it took Goten all he had not to lick his side of the glass. The woman was fucking herself with three fingers now and the man with his humongous belly now coated with blood thrashed back and forth crying in a mixture of desire and pain.

"RELEASE!" The woman cried out as her small pert ass bounced off her chair. Her wrist twisting as her fingers pushed deeper and deeper inside while her other hand busily flipped her clit.

The cock cage was graciously removed and immediately an erection plum and heavy with blood stood at attention over the bulging belly; the cork opened. Three second of silence hung in the air before, like a surreal fountain, the man howled at the top of his lungs and erupted in a spray of water and cum.

Subconsciously Goten stroked himself beneath his robe, moaning himself.

A white streak joined the dots of crimson on the glass. The man emptied his load, shaking and shudder against the metal bands that held him. His masked face thrashed from side to side before falling back in satisfaction. Above he heard the woman scream in ecstasy and saw her shudder deliciously, wetness seeping into the seat beneath her. Goten bit his lips to stifle his own pulsing release as it overtook him without warning.

A few moments passed.

The woman suddenly rose.

Goten's eyes widened as he recognized the figure whom suddenly came into the light.

She had a shapely but strong figure, ice-blue eyes, and short, straight blonde hair.

"18!" Goten hissed, "Then that means the man…"

"Krillen," the older man affirmed.

The teen's mouth worked but not a sound procured. Finally;

"Eww."

Piccolo raised a brow but the gesture was hidden by the hood of his robe.

"Eww," he repeated amused. "Where's your hand, Goten?"

The teen was startled to find that his hand was wrapped firmly around his limp and sticky cock. He was suddenly glad he too was wearing a hood because he could not imagine what shade of red he was currently sporting. Hurriedly he removed his hand wiping it on his trousers and placed it outside his robe.

Utterly humiliated, Goten turned his attention back to the room, not wanting to face the man next to him as the realization that he had jacked off right next to him fully hit him. But the room had gone dark.

"We will leave them with some privacy now," Piccolo said and without further comment continued down the hall.

"Wait!" Goten tripped over his robe clumsily in an attempt to catch up. "What kind of ritual was that?"

"That was not a ritual. Simply a form of therapy." He slowed his steps to allow the teen to reach him. "As leader of this faction I provide counseling to my members, from time to time it covers marital issues." The air grew damp as they continued their journey. "I suggested the interplay of S&M simply because Krillen and 18 were having difficulties with giving up control, especially 18." The turned down a nearly invisible corner. "In the last session it was she who was bound, tonight was simply an exercise in re-establishing her role." He glanced at the youth next to him, a hidden smile curling his lips, "As grisly as this last demonstration may have appeared, Krillen is ten times more ruthless in this arena than 18. She felt the need to 'retaliate' as it were, though it doesn't come close to the special attentions he bestowed upon her last time."

Goten made a noise as if he didn't buy it for a second.

Piccolo chuckled.

"Is it so hard to fathom? Krillen has always been somewhat of an underdog. And as they say; it's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for."

"I'm sorry; I just don't see Krillen brandishing whips and chains, especially against his scary wife."

"Actually it was a cattle prod, but that's beside the point. But enough of that now, we've reached our destination."

Indeed they had halted at the bottom of a stair case leading up into blackness.

The elder man drew back his hood and regarded the demi-Saiyan gravely.

"This is the last time I will say this to you. What you witnessed before is only a taste of what lies at the top of these stairs. If at any time you wish to leave, tell the closest person next to you and you will be lead out."

Goten gave a short nod, a gesture which the Namek returned before drawing his hood to its former place.

Without further hesitation they climbed the stairwell and disappeared into the darkness.

Continued in Part Four

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Author's Note: As stated in the last section, this is of my own making and does not necessarily express the views (though I've no doubt they would endorse such play in the right circumstances) of the Temple of Set.


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